


To Love A Teacher

by NegansOtherWife



Series: To Love A Teacher [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Teaching, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 57,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: The only thing standing between her and home is thousands of miles of uncertainty. She'd do anything just to see their faces again, dead or alive. But stumbling upon Negan, and a proposition that seems too good to be true... seems like anything harder then she's ever faced.





	1. A is for Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by my overactive imagination, a dream I had a couple months back, and daily conversations I have with toddlers at my job. Enjoy!

_Breathe In. Breathe Out._

I diligently remind myself as I keep my eyes firmly planted on my feet as I run. I hate running, always have. But I'd discovered early on, that if I could distance myself from my body mentally, I could last longer.

A wheeze escapes my mouth unintentionally, and I'm vaguely reminded of a dying vacuum cleaner

_All right, maybe my method isn't 100% effective._

So I had asthma, sue me… but I’d made it this long.

Finally, I have to stop and take a break, heavily leaning against a tree to catch my breath. Carefully, I stuff down the panic that always seems to creep up on me in the worst times.

I'm lost.

Utterly and completely confused, and at a loss for where I am.

_Now’s a good time as any to cry. You’ll never find them. They've probably moved on… or died._ My subconscious whispered to me persistently, she could be a bitch when times called for it.

“Shut up,” I whimper softly, as I fall to my knees. Shaking my head to get my bearings I adjust myself so my back is against the nearest tree, making sure I won't be caught off guard.

“Breathe Kim! You've got this, you’ve made it this far. And while your phone died a long time ago. Along with your motivation to live… I believe in you.” Quietly I talk to mumble to myself while scanning my surroundings for a clue. So I'd lost my mind a long time ago, but the months of having no one to talk to had taken its toll… and albeit chipped at my sanity. I had turned to myself for the company, the human kind so desperately needs.

 But at least I wasn't interrupted when it was my time to talk… most of the time.

Taking out the worn out map from my back pocket, I study it, trying to get a slight semblance as to where I am. But no matter how hard I try, the map looks like a toddler had taken a red and blue crayon to it.

I briefly studied the hastily written directions, that I'd copied down from my phone seconds before it'd died. I'd been unable to finish, and my directions had trailed off somewhere after South Carolina.

“Kimberly-Anne Victoria Harris! Snap out of it and figure out where you are!” My voice has a slight deranged edge to it. 

_God my name is a mouthful…_

Turning back to the map at my feet (which I'd dropped during my mini freak out), I began to trace the lines of the Interstate 95 South. Closing my eyes I can almost hear my dad’s voice, chastising me for my poor sense of directions.

_How many times did he tell me that knowing how to read a map would be useful? I wish I'd listened to him._

But I'd come this far, and Florida was just within my reach. With a sudden determination, my fingers came to a sudden stop on the map. It's only a guess, but its better than anything.

Looks like I'm heading to Washington, DC.

 


	2. B is for Blisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized words are thoughts. Enjoy!

**Welcome to Alexandria.**

_There's nothing welcoming about this world anymore._ I think, briskly passing the slowly decaying sign, before I glance down at the map in my hand. S _omehow_ I had gotten off course and made a wrong turn.

I'm in Virginia, I _think_ , judging by the large map I have somewhat awkwardly in front of my face. 

It's hot, almost scorching, and I've shed several layers. I'm down to a thin tank top. I shift the military duffle bag with all my things inside it, onto my other shoulder to prevent chafing as beads of sweat continue to run down my back. My curly hair is plastered to my damp forehead, but I remain alert, scanning the trees on either side of the highway periodically as I weave between cars. It's been days since I've slept, but I'm in uncharted territory, and I need to cover more ground before setting up camp.

While most would have been put off by the heat it only seemed to fuel my blistery, aching feet. 

One word kept repeating its self in my head: _Home_.

I need to go home. It's been months since I've seen my parents and brothers, and with my track record, it would probably take me another year to make it to my destination. The odds that they had stayed in one place after so long, were slim. But what else could I do? They were all I had left…

My route along Interstate 95 South, had put me in good fortune, and I'd managed to remain problem free for this long. Not counting obvious problems, of course…walking corpses.

And my inability to navigate a straight line…

But I digress.

The highway had been more or less abandoned…void of human bodies, something that had worked to my advantage. I hadn't had that much trouble finding food and water, or shelter for that matter. I took to sleeping in trees, not trusting the environment to camp alongside the road, or on the ground where I could be ambushed… or bitten. I had heard horror stories of rape and recreational murder from my temporary stops in communities along the East coast, and I wasn’t ready to test my luck. Sleeping in trees allowed me to remain undetectable, and had kept me alive this long. 

Walking down the abandoned highway in Virginia, it seemed that a majority of the human race had retreated to the protection of the trees, regardless I remember my father's words: Remain aware, and stay in the shadows. As long as I stay out of others way, I could make it to Florida. 

 _The bright side is, I finally have the body my mother always wanted,_ I think sarcastically, as my stomach rumbles... again.

_What I wouldn’t do for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream._

Months of walking, running and going hungry had given me a toned yet slim body, and allowed me to finally lose the small pooch on my stomach that had followed me up until graduate school. 

 _Too much booze and Netflix…_ My subconscious snarks.

“Can’t you ever say anything remotely positive… to well us?” I grumble underneath my breath begrudgingly. Its been a long time since I'd had a conversation with anyone besides myself, and I was starting to get tired of it. 

**_*pop*_ **

I crouch low to the ground, startled by the sound of a gunshot. Where there are guns, there are men with animosity. 

_Several things your father told you to avoid Kimberly-Anne…_

Reluctantly I sink deeper into the forest, another detour is in order. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Negan makes an appearance in the next chapter!


	3. C is for Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to work out a set schedule for this story, i'm in college so my uploading is bound to be erratic.

“Holy shit,” My voice bounces off the heavy forestry that surrounds me thickly on all sides. “And here I thought life couldn’t get much worse.”

“I knew it was a bad idea to go into the woods,” I whisper, now conscious that my voice had been steadily rising throughout my tirade. It'd been days since I'd seen the highway, and the small roads I had stumbled across so far had given me no indication of my location. I would need someone familiar with the area to tell me where I was at this point. I sigh, heavy with frustration. This had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

_Yeah, a good idea for someone with a sense of general direction…_

I ignored the snarky voice that I'm beginning to doubt ever was my conscience. I'm convinced I have the devil locked inside my head.  

A rustling of bushes catch my attention, and I crouch down instinctively, turning towards the sound. I relax momentarily glad that it wasn’t a living person but rather a biter, but internally I'm cursing my stupidity for being so loud. Pulling my knife from its sheath that's  strapped to my thigh, I tense-- waiting for a good opportunity to strike. I feel a momentary tinge of disgust at having to put my hands on something so grotesque, before I run up to meet the biter, plunging my knife into its throat. The corpse falls to my feet instantly, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

I'm cleaning the gore off my knife when a noise catches my attention.

I turn abruptly.

No! Could it be?

_An engine?_

In my excitement, I reach for the nearest tree that looks like it can support my weight.

 _Careful Kim...It would suck if you died so early in the narrative._ The thought resounds in my head as I carefully reach for another branch… one after the other. I stop climbing when I can finally see the top of some of the smaller sized trees. Turning my head, almost frantically, I begin to search for the source of the noise. 

 _There!_ My heart pounds frantically as a sense of relief washes over me. The feeling I have is equivalent to wandering in the desert for months and stumbling across a small puddle of water. 

My puddle comes in the form of a medium sized group of men. Several are on motorcycles while others lounge in the bed of two trucks. All the vehicles seemed to be strategically positioned around an RV… no more then half a mile away.

“All right, you have two choices, Kimberly…" I quietly murmur to myself. "You can stay in the woods and possibly be mauled by a bear," I pause at the visual in my head. "Or you can head towards those men, and hope they don’t chop your head off.” Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves I start the climb back down. Contemplating my next move, I pause briefly before making a note of my surroundings. I’d leave my stuff in the tree just in case…

 _Just in case those men try to slice your throat._ I shifted nervously at the thought. What was I risking?

In the end I leave all my supplies except my canteen, the nine inch knife secured in its thigh holster, and a pistol tucked into the back of my pants. I hold my map in my slightly damp palm, and as an afterthought, I carve my initials in the tree so I can easily identify where I've left everything. 

Taking a deep breath, my feet reluctantly carry me in the direction of the makeshift blockade on the road.  

* * *

“Deep breaths Kim, you've got this! If they try to kill you, make a run for the trees. If they ask if you have anything… tell them you have Hepatitis B. That way they’ll leave you alone, and you’ll get a wide berth to leave as quickly as fucking possible. Atta’ girl,” I say, as I shift nervously behind the tree I'm using as coverage. “Just ask for directions… what could possibly go wrong?”

_Fucking everything…_

Leaving the protection of my tree, I move out onto the deteriorating road so they can at least see me from a distance, and assess that I won't be a threat. I stop just short of the group of men on the road, they must have been waiting for something. So far they all _look_  harmless, most of the men sit around, chattering to one another or playing cards. I notice the guns strapped to their waists, and why they did look scary, dying in the woods alone and confused seemed to outweigh the latter.

I glance around nervously trying to look for an escape route, suddenly aware of the possibility that they could shoot me without even letting a word escape my mouth. 

As I draw closer to the group, they seem to finally notice the sound of my footsteps on the pavement. I put my hands up quickly as several guns were now directed at me.

_Feet don’t fail me now…_

“Stay right there, unless you want your fucking head blown off.” The man who talks has the most grotesque burn stretching across half his face. I wince internally, and several chuckles ring out from the now hostile group of men.

_Not your best day Kimberly…_

“Go get Negan! He's gonna wanna see this pretty little thing that just walked right up to us.” The man whose threatened me directs the order to a skinny teenager, who'd been somewhat reluctantly pointing a gun at me. He nods almost gratefully, before heading towards the door of the RV. 

I on the other hand felt an unwanted shiver go up my spine, at the mention of this ‘Negan’. 

_I bet Negan is their leader._ My subconscious whispers.

“No shit, Sherlock” I muttered underneath my breath. 

“You gotta name sweetness? The names Dwight," Dwight peers at me curiously. "You all alone out here?” I look Dwight up and down, assessing the situation, it's not looking well if I'm being completely honest with myself. The men around him had started to spread out around me casually, and I feel my stomach start to sink. “It’s a cold world out here, sweetness…”

“My nam-“ I started to choke out reluctantly, but the lanky teenager has come back, presumably with Negan. The words die in my throat as my jaw went slack.

He's so handsome. No! I take that back, he's achingly… 

 _Fuckable? Kissable? Downright irresistible?_ My thoughts are eager to find the right word.

Ignoring _that_ thought, I continue to eyeball Negan whilst attempting to not look like I'm about to shit myself. 

_Close your mouth, you're drooling._

Negan has an air of authority that threatens to suffocate me. The men in his group step back, and part like the sea as his dark eyes survey me. He looks young, in his mid-30s, and I can't help but notice when he smiles that he has a dimple on his right cheek. He has a rugged charm and he knows it, his right-hand strokes his beard almost absentmindedly as he saunters toward me with an over exaggerated swagger. 

 _I want to yank it._ It doesn't escape me that this could be my last thought before he kills me.

But what really catches my eye is the bat that he's carrying over his left shoulder.

 _Why would anyone wrap barbed wire around a bat?_ I ponder briefly. The images I conjure in my head, make my stomach flip. 

The amusement in his eyes is unmistakable, and I quickly take in the rest of his physique when he comes to a stop only a couple feet away from me. He's well built, the muscles underneath his shirt unmissable. “This better be fucking good, a man like me needs his beauty sleep.” His eyes size me up, lingering a little too long on my chest, which causes my eyes to narrow slightly.

“Well, Dwight, what do we have here?” 

“Well, sir,” Dwight seemed to have become nervous under Negan’s undivided attention, and I'm starting to second guess ever leaving the safety of my mother's womb 23 years ago. “She just walked right up to us, didn't even say a word.”

_I didn’t get a chance to you piece of shit._

All eyes flash to me. 

Shit.

_Did I say that out loud? Fight or flight, Kim! Fight of flight?!?_

Without a word I turn on my heel sharply, running for the cover of the trees. 

I don't make it far.

A bullet whizs past my head, and I feel the pain blossom as it grazes my right temple. 

I paused mid-step.

Negan makes a tutting noise, closing the distance between us. “Now that’s not very nice, just strolling up to my men, causing a little commotion, and leaving before we get the chance to properly acquaint ourselves.” His free hand lands on my shoulder, anchoring me in place. He steps even closer… close enough to count the freckles scattered across his nose. 

Now, I have eyes and it's clear that this man is anything but ugly, his dark hair is slicked back, giving me a clear view of his chestnut eyes. I can't place the emotion I see in them, he's unreadable. His dimple deepens as we continue to stare silently at one another, and a smirk is slowly beginning to unravel on his face.  

“Look’s like your hurt, doll,” His voice is like a crackling fire. My hand shoots up to where the bullet has grazed me, and I feel the sticky consistency of blood. “Why don’t you tell me, what a pretty thing like you is doing out here all alone?”

“I have a name.” The words are out before I can stop myself.

_What did I just say? He's going to beat my head in with that bat, and all because I didn't keep my damn mouth shut._

“Please don’t kill me.” I squeak, Negan looked at me mystified for a second before he throws his head back, and laughs.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not gonna kill you...yet. But I did ask you a question," His hand moves from my shoulder to grasp my chin tightly so I can't turn away from his penetrating gaze. "Are you from hilltop, doll? Don't think I haven't noticed several of your men missing, I still need my shit."

My eyes widen. 

_What have I gotten myself into?_

Negan seems to be amused by my internal struggle, but the smile is slowly fading as the second's tick by. My mouth hangs open, dry.

_I wonder if they have ice tea, I’m a little parched?_

“Would you mind closing that mouth of yours, doll? I can’t think straight.” My teeth make an audible ‘chink,' as my mouth snapS shut. 

“I’m a little lost," I blurt out. "I’m heading south, and I got a little mixed up with my directions. I heard your engines about a half a mile back, and I was just hoping one of you might be able to show me the way!” The words tumble out of my mouth, in an effort to save my life. I glance down briefly to the map in my hands, Negan’s eyes follow the movement. He releases my chin, reaching to pry away the now damp paper from my clammy hands.

Silence. 

I shift nervously as Negan's creepy stare kicks into overdrive, while he unfolded the map, no doubt noticing the erratic lines that I've scribbled across it. Lines that mark my path, and show where I've been. 

"You expect me to believe, that _you_ traveled from New York, all the way to _here_.”

I nod meekly.

Negan’s eyes glitter with an emotion that I can't identify. “You got some pair of balls on you then, doll. Bigger than most of my guys.” He gestures to his men that were now peering at me with interest.

“How about you come back with us?” Sensing my hesitation he continues on. “There’s food and shelter…that is as long as you pull your weight.” His eyes twinkle, and for some reason, my throat feels like it's on fire.

_Breathe!_

“Or… you can stay here and get your ass chewed out by walkers.” Almost as if to prove his point a biter staggers out of the woods. Negan push me aside, shoving my map into his back pocket. I watched astounded, as he moves, almost like a batter stepping up to a plate, Negan swings his bat hitting the biter with a perfect uppercut to the jaw.

 _Why is his ass so perfect?_ I wonder distantly. 

“Alright, doll. Back to my place?” Negan turns back around with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

_Uh…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some Kudo's and tell me what you think! I'd love to know more about my readers... don't be shy. :)


	4. D is for Dimples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! Midterm week is over and I'm celebrating with this hastily written chapter!  
> Enjoy and leave some Kudo's. :)

**Dedicated to: Daniela V.**

 

“I’ll need to grab my things first.” I spoke hesitantly, but made sure it came out more of a demand then a question. I wasn’t a pushover… far from it and I’d be damned if I let Negan manipulate me again.

Negan nodded in assent and motioned for the teenager from before to step forward, he did so hesitantly. 

“Go with her, and make sure your’e back in less then half an hour.” He chuckled. “Hell! Or take your time, Lucille is thirsty! After all she is a vampire bat!” Negan swung the bloody bat around for emphasis.

_Why are the crazy ones always the most attractive?_

So Lucille was his bat? I giggled, and immediately Negan’s eyes were on me again.

“What’s so funny, doll?” His eyes narrowed.

_Jeez. Self conscious much?_

“My knife’s name is Kyle.” He couldn’t see my blush, but I felt my cheeks heat at my admission. No one needed to know I had named my canteen Randy… that I would keep to myself. 

Negan’s eyes slid down my body and I could almost feel them coming to settle where my knife was situated on my upper thigh. There was that dimple again.  

“Darling, Kyle’s one lucky man.”

Not wanting to test my luck, I turned around in the direction I had come from previously making sure Negan’s henchman was following closely behind. I needed distance. 

Now. 

.

.

.

My escort turned out to be a soft spoken seventeen year old boy who was clearly out of his element. I voiced my opinion once we were out of ear shot of Negan and the rest of his men.

“So Negan’s…” I didn't know exactly how to put into words the emotional beating my body had just been put through. 

“A nut job?” 

We glanced at each other and began to laugh, I wan’t sure if it was the humor or the absolute insanity of it all but the tension had dissolved between us and we stood then in silence appraising each other.

“Bronson.” He reached his hand out for me to shake, I hesitated only for a moment before I took it. He was cute, and I studied him as we walked in a somewhat comfortable silence. Bronson was tall almost a head and a half taller then me, his long dirty blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail at the nape of his neck. His eye’s which were wide and expressive, were the same color as the Virginia sky.

_I love the color blue._

“My name’s Kimberly-Anne, but you can just call me Kim.”

The heat was unbearable and the shade from the tree’s only offered moments of relief as we walked in the direction I had come from before, I took a swig of my canteen before passing it to him.

“Thanks…” He said it almost reluctantly, but seemed relieved nonetheless. “It’s my first collection and I forgot my water.”

“Collection?” It was clear Negan and his men had been blocking the road for some reason, but it had never occurred to me what that may be.

He shook his head refusing to elaborate, instead steering the conversation to another topic and handing me the flannel wrapped around his waist to stop the bleeding on my forehead. 

I hardly felt the graze on my head, but Bronson told me their was a doctor where we were going that would gladly take a look at it; apparently the first visit was free.

“There’s generally two options for new members of The Sanctuary.” He peeked at me sideways, his expression was solemn. “But something tells me you’ll get the third prize. Negan has a thing for pretty girls.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I kept silent. 

What could I say? 

I would go with Negan and his men, rest for a couple of nights and then be on my way like I had done so many times before. I’d be gone in a week… I was sure of it. 

We finally came to a stop in front of the tree I had carved my initials in. Bronson stared at me in awe, the pine tree loomed above us almost intimidating in its size. I had purposely picked the biggest tree in the vicinity that also just so happened to have branches far and in between. I dropped my canteen and began to nimbly climb the trunk.

“That’s fucking crazy,” He shook his head in disbelief, as I began to maneuver up the branches. “No wonder bossman is so taken with you.”

Ignoring the way my lower stomach tightened at Bronson’s words, I focused on not falling to my death. Climbing trees had always been one of my favorite past times as a child, I never knew it would become so useful in my twenty’s.

While I climbed, I took a moment to mentally assess the precarious situation that I had now found myself in. Not my best work I had to admit…

_You think?_

“Kimberly-Anne, this is not you. You need to get your bearings, and you will not have Negan assault you with his presence.” I mumbled the words forcibly to myself as I worked to untie the knots that had kept my bag secured to the tree.

I might have even wagged my finger in the air for dramatic flair. 

I gazed out onto the rest of the forest mindful of the time I had left before Bronson and I had to return to Negan.

Negan.

What kind of name was that? He was clearly older then my twenty-three years, and I was itching to know what he’d been before this shit storm had wiped out the entirety of civilization. A soldier? Police officer? He had this attitude that just made everyone fall in line behind him, I had to admire that in him. He reminded me of my father, who had worked for ICE twenty-two years before retiring.

That led me to my next thought…my family.

My loving mother and father and my rambunctious brothers. I stared out at the forest blankly while memories of them played out behind my eyes, where were they? Were they even al—

“Kimmy! Hurry up before Negan has my head.” Bronson called up to me impatiently, and I winced at the volume of his voice.

Run or stay? 

.

.

.

I ended up riding in the RV with Negan.

Fuck me sideways with Lucille.

 _On second thought…? Scratch that. I bet he’d be into that._ I decidedly distantly, as I watched him open the RV door for me. 

I had made to follow Bronson, who offered me a seat beside him in one of the pick up trucks that I had noticed beforehand. The plan had been short lived and as I had made to walk by Negan, he held out his hand in front of me halting me in my tracks. 

“Where do you think you're going doll?” His smile only seemed to get larger the longer my mouth hung open in disbelief. “You’re riding with me.” 

It wasn’t a question.

I glanced past him at Bronson who only shrugged sympathetically before climbing into the bed of a red pickup. Our exchange didn’t go unnoticed and as Negan followed my line of vision his hand tightened around Lucille when he saw who I was communicating with.

 _You had no choice, but to follow him._ I reminded myself lightly as I cleared my head finally coming back to the present. I stood awkwardly in the RV unsure of what to do.

 _I tended to zone out sometimes… sue me._  

I noticed Negan’s mouth had been moving this entire time and as his hands motioned around the vehicle, he stepped in behind me closing the door. 

_Something tells me this man was used to having people fall all over him to please him, a few seconds wouldn't kill him._

The RV was spacious and clean which surprised me, it was medium sized with a beige color scheme, and I took in the sight of the two couches that were right next to the door I had just entered from. Books. A shit ton of them, balanced precariously on both the spacious couches overflowing and spilling out onto the walkway between them partially blocking the path that led to the driver and passenger seat. I didn’t look closely at the titles but I was surprised nonetheless. Negan didn’t look like the type of guy to well… read.

 _Momma always said don’t judge a book by its cover._ I mused.

Negan was a puzzle and the longer I studied him a bigger and bigger part of me was dying to put him together and see what kind of picture he made.

“—so thats the grand tour. We’re about ready to move out. Make yourself comfortable.” Negan carelessly tossed Lucille down on one of the couches before sliding into one of the sides of the booth that was placed adjacent to the small kitchenette. Seeing nowhere else to sit, with the two couches occupied I dropped my bag next to my feet before sliding in across the booth from Negan. His eye’s almost twinkled with glee as he laced his hands behind his head and stared at me leaning back.

I shifted uncomfortably under his stare, one of Negan’s men —Dwight, opened the driver door to the RV and got in turning the key in the engine. The seat underneath me vibrated gently as the engine came to life. I gazed past Negan and watched as the other vehicles began to drive back down the road they had been blocking, one by one in a straight line until it was our turn and the RV began to move. I gazed out the window by the booth we sat in hyper aware of the fact that Negan was still looking at me, and suddenly I was beginning to feel exposed in the tank top I wore.

I self-consciously glanced down at my nipples.

 _What was he staring at? The man probably had a wife and kid waiting for him back at his camp._ The thought sobered me up.

I had a family I had to return too also and to do that I would have to break the silence, and find out where the hell I was. Dwight drove humming softly under his breath as he maneuvered carefully around the pot holes in the road. Negan had shut his eyes but the smile was still firmly in place.

 _Fuck me sideways._ He’d done this on purpose, I was sure.

I cleared my throat.

Nothing.

While my left hand had been applying steady pressure to the wound on my forehead up until this point, I used my right hand to reach out and lightly shake him “awake.”

Negan’s eyes slowly opened and I watched with fascination as his dimple appeared.

“Are you finally done mulling around shit in your head, darling?”

“Yes,” I bit back the scathing remark that was on the tip of my tongue. “Where are we heading?”

“The Sanctuary,” Negan leaned forward on both his elbows, invading my personal space.

I cocked my head, repeating his words.

“Yes ma’am, that’s where I call home.” He didn’t continue, and I figured it was up to me to single handedly carry this conversation; his head remained in his hands watching me.

 “My name is Kimberly-Anne, it’s nice to meet you.” The words came out with a lot more confidence then I expected, I had the gun tucked into my waistband to thank for that.

 _Mother always did say to be polite._ I’d be polite and courteous and hopefully Negan would give me the answers I needed. Then I’d be gone before he knew it. 

“Negan.” 

_I was beginning to hate that dimple._

“Why didn’t you kill me?” I emphasized the statement by motioning to Bronson’s shirt that I held to my forehead. I hadn’t gotten to look at it, but I would need to soon. It hadn’t stop bleeding yet.

“I don’t enjoy killing women. Men— I can waste them all the livelong.” It didn't escape my attention that during Negan’s response his eye’s had slid down to my chest.

I removed the shirt from my forehead and yanked it on, blood or not. I’d be damned if I was going to have Negan ogle my chest the entire ride to ‘The Sanctuary.’

“Don't worry doll-face, the man who shot you will be dealt with. I don’t mess with that type of shit.” He met my eyes chuckling darkly. “I might be a lot of things, but a sick fuck I am not.”

“Can I have my map back?” I blurted out the words before my brain could even process the consequences of asking that question, but I was done pussyfooting around. Without it I’d be _literally_ lost. I didn’t have time to play the game’s Negan had in mind, they were frustrating and I doubt he was even taking me seriously at this point.

I wondered what his expression would look like if I pressed the gun I was carrying to his stupid smiling face. 

Childish, I know. 

“Tell you what. Once Doc looks at your forehead and you’ve had a hot meal in you, we can talk about your options.”

 _Options? What did that mean?_ I glared at him but I couldn’t argue with the idea of a hot meal and a warm place to sleep tonight.

“Boss—,” Dwight called hesitantly, unsure whether or not he was interrupting anything. He wasn’t, but I noticed when the smile on Negan’s face became a little strained. “We’re here.” 

My curiosity got the best of me.

I peered out the window in sheer awe at the colossal building that was slowly coming into view, standing up I moved to the front of the RV to get a better look. This wasn’t a camp, it was more. 

Much more.

I felt Negan’s breath against the nape of my neck as he came up behind me. 

“Welcome to the Sanctuary, doll.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Let me know in the comments!


	5. E is for Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super short and I apologize. College is rough and the next chapter will be extra long, pinky promise. Enjoy this hot mess of a filler. :)

 

There are two things I really need explained to me.

One.

How ‘The Sanctuary,’ for something so large and well… _present_ could remain for so long untouched by the evil forces that lurked outside it’s very prominent walls.

Two.

Where I could find a dictionary, so I could patiently explain the words “personal” and “space” to Negan who was clearly letting his ego inflate the longer I stared in awe at the community before me.

_A girl needs her space._

I cleared my throat, which finally made Negan take a couple steps back from where he was standing behind me.

“I’ll have Dwight bring your stuff to your room while you take a visit to go see Doc. As much as I love my women _dripping_ for me,” Negan wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis. “I’d rather you not bleed on my upholstery.”

My lips puckered.

“You're an ass… you know that?” 

Dwight sucked in a breath before hastily exiting the vehicle.

 _Mother always did say my mouth would get me killed._ I mulled this over as I watched Dwight haul ass, tripping over himself in the process. I imagined he was trying to put space between him and this impending explosion.

_Geez._

Negan however had yet to say a word and I was beginning to take that as a bad sign.

My only wish was that, “ **DEATH BY MOUTH"** beengraved onto my tombstone.

I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I tried to follow after Dwight. Fight or flight, and all that bullshit. That’s what had kept me alive for so long, there’s simply no shame in running away anymore. I was however, slightly ashamed that I tried to make my escape out the window. I darted forward, and had half my body through before Negan could comprehend what I was trying to do.

“Oh no you don’t,” His laugh was boisterous as he lunged forward to grab me.

_At least one of us is having fun… Me? I'd give this day a thumbs down._

Wrapping his arm around my waist, he lifted me effortlessly back through the window.

“Can I let you in on a secret, doll… I like you,” His breath tickled the nape of my neck, as he leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Not a lot of people… _excite_ me the way you do.”

I gulped.

“Don’t tempt me, I just might have to keep you around.” 

He squeezed my waist for emphasis before letting go, and I gratefully took a couple steps back distancing myself from him.

I focused on getting my thoughts together, it was almost enough of a distraction to help me forget the way my stomach tightened when he touched me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question of the day: Is the stress and the tears that college puts you through really worth it?


	6. F is for Fishsticks (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Glad to see that I didn't lose anyone with the last chapter. As I promised this one’s longer and juicer then ever. This chapter actually turned out to be pretty long so I split it into two parts. Look out for part 2 later this week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some love!

_I wonder if anyone can see how close I am to flinging myself off a tree?_

I self-consciously tugged at the hem of my tank top as I set my bag down outside the door of the RV.

_Pretty sure that tree over there would be a perfect place to die…_

As soon as our feet touched the ground Negan’s men swarmed the vehicle, unloading supplies I hadn’t noticed was tied to the top of the roof. Dwight had reappeared and was in the process of grabbing my things, he sneered at me as he passed. 

“Please, be careful,” I stressed, now fully aware that Dwight clearly was not okay with the assigned position of the bellhop. I’d kick his ass up and down this side of the country if he broke something because of his shitty attitude towards me. I had irreplaceable things inside that duffle bag that I valued immensely… my dog-eared copy of _Twilight,_ for starters. 

Judge all you want. 

My words fell on deaf ears as he roughly grabbed my bag, purposely smacking it against the side of the RV as he disappeared into the throng of people around us. 

_What crawled up his ass?_

I didn’t mull over this for too long as Negan had started speaking to me, motioning in different directions with Lucille.

Apparently, he takes her everywhere.

 _Charming_.

I hardly paid him attention. I was far too distracted by my new surroundings.

There was a steady hum of energy in the air, as people busily moved around us. I watched a small group of men head towards the truck that I had seen Bronson get into earlier. It was completely empty now and I wondered briefly where Bronson had gone. I watched the group joke and talk with the men we had driven back with, before piling into the truck and driving through a large metal gate I hadn’t noticed previously.

 _I wonder what has you so distracted?_ I admonished myself. Negan was making me soft. I had to be more careful of my surroundings if I was ever going to make it back to Florida. 

“Those men,” Negan must have seen the look of curiosity on my face and motioned to the group that had driven off. “Are my ‘Saviors,’ they go on runs and bring back supplies that we utilize here. Everyone else stays within the safety of these walls, and pulls their weight.”

He continued walking.

We were in what appeared to be a very large closed off field, it must have been almost a mile in width. While the vicinity of the factory was paved in concrete it eventually trailed off and became grass. 

I observed the ground in utter fascination.

It looked like they had torn down the surrounding forest and cleared some of the trees, building the fence around the cleared outfield. It's genius, and I observed the stark border of concrete and the way it transitioned into the forest floor. 

“I’m impressed,” I motioned around us. “You were able to create more roaming space for your people while eradicating the risk of casualties.” 

I had to hand it to the man. He sure did know how to run a group, especially one so _complex._ Negan winked before continuing his tour. I, however, wasn’t done and began to walk toward the fence to get a better look at its structure. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Negan had noticed.

I rolled my eyes, of course, he hadn’t. The man was too self-absorbed… that much was clear.

Pacified that I had at least a couple of minutes, I turned to study the fence before me. It was a thick chain link fence, the type that you saw in a prison courtyard. It must have been at least ten feet tall and had thick barbed wire situated at the top. Wrinkling my eyes in confusion, I hesitated before stepping closer to the fence in curiosity.

It looked like a shirt had gotten stuck on the outside of the fence, it swayed softly in the almost nonexistent breeze.

I reached my hand out, before snatching it back horrified.

It wasn’t a shirt.

Negan had biters tied to his fence, I observed this with horrific fascination as I stared down the length of the fence. Some of them were still alive and each in a different stage of decomposing. The biter that I had almost touched was missing its bottom half. 

I gagged at the stench. How had I not noticed before?

This reminded me of how farmers would hang scarecrows in their fields to scare off crows. I cringed internally before backing away, moving further along the perimeter of the fence.

Off on the far side of the fence stood a large garden, the crops ran in neat rows and I watched the workers watering and picking weeds diligently. Near them sat a medium sized group of kids, I furrowed my brow as I observed that they were unintended and sat around aimlessly.

Deciding not to push my luck, I headed back in the direction of Negan. He hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t following him yet, so I sped up my pace to where I was only several steps behind him.

_Jackass had kept talking the whole time._

As we walked, people stared at me curiously before noticing Negan and giving me us a wide berth. I mentioned such to Negan. 

“At least I don’t make them kneel,” He laughed, and did I. T _hat_ would be ridiculous. “I’m not a _complete_ asshole.”

We finally made it across the open field and crossed into the main entrance of the building. It was just like I thought. Inside opened up to an open floor that contained people busily bussing around, the space was long but narrow and contained multiple staircases that led in a multitude of directions. I stared in awe, this place was far bigger then the other camps I had been to in the past. 

We walked up the closest set of stairs next to us and continued down what seemed to be a maze of hallways. As we walked farther away from the main floor, I wondered why we weren't clothed in absolute darkness. 

It took my mind a moment to register the reality of the situation, it had been so long…I felt like I was almost dreaming. 

“You have electricity?” The words barely escaped my mouth. If they had electricity, I could charge my phone! I could barely contain my excitement.

“The building has a separate generator, we run it a couple hours a week.” Negan tapped one the light fixtures in the hallway. “It powers the showers and the indoor plumbing.”

Pinch me, I’d gone to heaven. 

I sniffed myself self-consciously.

Yep.

A shower was long overdue.

We finally came to a stop at a door situated at the end of a long hallway, Negan pushed the door open without even knocking. I winced as the door bounced off the wall behind it, hating to think who we’d be disturbing. 

I followed Negan into the room hesitantly. The space was medium sized and was a stark contrast to the concrete flooring and walls that ran throughout the rest of the building. 

“This used to be the infirmary, didn’t have to do much to this room after we settled in.” 

He was right. The room held several hospital beds as well as cots. Along both walls were wall to floor cabinets containing medical supplies, there was a deadbolt on each one. Against the farthest wall were two large windows that let the natural light in, as well as a waist-high bookshelf that had medical books hazardously stacked on top of one other. 

It was clearly an attempt at a makeshift office had been set up at the end of the room. There was a large worn-out rug in front of the windows, as well as a small table and chair tucked into the corner. 

There was no one in the room. Curious, I moved towards the table to view the frames that had been neatly hung above it. In one frame was a doctor’s degree, the other frames contained various pictures of a single family.

I stared wistfully at the degree.

I’d probably never see a certificate with my name on it.

“Look’s like Doc’s making a house call,” Negan said, hopping up on one of the hospital beds. He began whistling as his eye’s studied me. “We’ll wait.”

I didn’t answer. 

I didn’t think I needed too.

Negan had made it more of a statement than a request. Instead, I took to studying the room. There were more things I had missed upon my initial observation, and I noted that there were two doors off to the side where we had entered. Someone had crudely etched **“BATHROOM,”** into the door on the right but the other one was left untouched. 

“You used to be a doctor?”

The question caught me off guard in the stifling silence of the room. It was a harmless question, but it hurt more then I care to let on. 

“Well, you've been staring at Doc’s degree for a good five minutes. The Sanctuary could use the extra help,” He trailed off…

I didn’t look at him, but I shook my head “no.” I moved to look outside one of the windows. They overlooked the front of the factory and I had an amazing view of the large field we had just come from. My eyes were instantly drawn to the group of children that were _still_ unsupervised. 

They had taken to playing tag and I could almost imagine their laughter in my head.

_Silence._

“Well, alright. Not in the mood to talk?” Negan hopped off the bed that he had been sitting on and came up behind me. “Let’s talk about the gun in your waistband.”

His fingers were quick as he reached in to grab the handle, grazing the bare skin and the band of my underwear in the process.

“He—,” I began to protest but Negan tsked at me.

“You didn’t think I’d notice after our _scuffle_ in the RV?” He didn’t look mad if anything curiosity showed brightly in his eyes. “You take me for an idiot, doll?”

“Can you, please—” The door swung open, and a boulder of a man walked through the door. He seemed surprised momentarily to see me, but straightened his back when he saw that I was with Negan. If he noticed how close we were standing or the gun in Negan’s hand he didn’t say anything.

  _Smart man._

I was going to go out on a limb and assume this was Doc.

Doc had the classic look of a soldier. His dark hair was styled in a buzzcut and it was clear from his military uniform that my assumption wasn’t far off. He stood a couple inches taller then Negan, and I watch fascinated as he moved with confident strides towards us. 

_I love a man in uniform._

The man was gorgeous and I wondered where the Sanctuary had been these past couple of months. I’d never really considered the idea of kids, but if this man asked I’d give him three. His skin reminded me of the caramel I’d drizzle on my ice-cream before a Netflix binge.

I know, I’m a hopeless romantic.

He had distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw, and as he prepared the necessary materials to clean my wound. I discreetly chanced a glimpse at his ass.

I’m not afraid to say I shamelessly flirted. 

Mom always wanted me to marry a doctor.

While Doc cleaned my wound, I asked him random questions. He was twenty-seven and had been stationed in Washington DC when the world had essentially ended. Negan remained silent and stood off to the side… I wish he’d leave. He was cramping my style.

“Let me guess… Marines?” I tugged at Doc’s uniform, it was a standard battle dress so it was just a random guess.

“You’re guess is correct,” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, while he continued to dress my wound. “Were you military?”

“My father was in the Marines.” I smiled shyly at him. I had an old picture of my father in the exact same uniform tucked into a pocket in my duffle bag.

That was the extent of the conversation, and he finished in comfortable silence.

I could feel Negan’s eyes searing into the side of my skull.

—ooo—

I struggled to keep up with Negan’s pace as we headed back down the hallway and onto the main floor. 

I could tell Negan wasn’t in the mood, so I refrained from any smart-ass comments. We’d left after I’d gotten my head bandaged and I had promised that I’d come see Doc tomorrow so that he could check for any signs of infection.

I’d like to see someone try and stop me.

Negan had practically yanked my arm out of its socket as he pulled me from the room.  
****

I made a note of my surroundings so I could find the infirmary later.

Before I knew it we were in a different part of the factory, and in front of a set of double doors. 

“Come find me after you have lunch.”

That was it. 

Just like that.

Negan was gone before I could even ask _where_ I could find him. 

“Jackass,” I murmured underneath my breath. I leaned back against the wall near the door, watching as people came and went through the entrance. The smell of food wafted through the cracks, but for some reason I stayed rooted in my spot. This was just so much to take in, I had to catch by breath… just for a second.

“Kimmy!” 

I looked up to see Bronson jogging down the hall, and I was glad to see a friendly face.

“Bronson,” I greeted him, as he stopped in front of me. “Come here often?”

His response was a boyish smile, before he offered me his arm.

“Come, my lady. Our reservation awaits.”

—ooo—

“What?” Bronson looked up from stuffing his face. “Fish-sticks not good enough for you, princess?”

He said the words teasingly, but I couldn’t help but take offense. 

“I’m a vegetarian.” I stuck my tongue out and continued to pick at the corn that was being served as a side. I wasn’t ungrateful. The food was actually pretty decent but not eating meat had been something I’d stuck to since I was eleven.

 _I wonder where Negan went._ The thought pushed itself to the forefront of my mind. I tried hard to pay attention to the conversation that going on before me, but my thoughts continued to stray towards Negan. 

Bronson flicked a piece of corn at me, narrowly missing my right eye. 

Distracted, I launched a fish-stick at his head in retaliation.

“Kim, I could've eaten that!”

—ooo—

Bronson was quickly growing on me and by the time lunch was over, we were joking around like old friends. He'd offered to walk me to Negan’s office for my meeting with him and I was grateful for the offer.

I had it all planned out in my head. The next couple of days I’d rest and get my bearings. I’d enjoy sleeping in a bed for a change, and a hot meal before I’d continue on my way to Florida. I even made a mental note to ask Negan where my map was.

Bronson teasingly hummed, _Don’t Trust Me_ by 3Oh!3 bumping my shoulder occasionally as we walked through the maze of the hallways in the factory. While we walked Bronson gave me a half-assed tour. I say _half-assed_ , because every time he got more then a couple words out he’d break out into song. 

“Those are the showe—,” He spun around dramatically motioning in the general direction of another hallway, before shimmying his shoulders and singing. “Tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef. That I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him.” 

For some reason, Bronson found my food choices hilarious.

“I’ll have you know I used to be a vegan.” I sniffed.

Bronson chuckled, “And how’d that go?”

“Not to well, I realized being ‘picky’ in a national food shortage could get me killed.” I had to join him in his laughter, it felt almost surreal to have someone to joke with again. Especially someone my age, we could bullshit around with one another and not be criticized for our childish actions. “Meat is my hard limit though, has been and always will be.”

He bumped my shoulder again, before we both began to belt out the lyrics to the song he had been singing. 

As we approached the end of a hallway Bronson became quieter and I could tell he was slightly hesitant about leaving me alone with Negan. There seemed to be something that he wasn’t telling me. 

We were within mere feet of the door when I heard Negan's laughter accompanied by a soft feminine one. I ignored the way my stomach clenched uncomfortably, I hadn’t eaten the fish sticks but for some reason I could taste them on my tongue.

Bronson seemed unaware of my dizzying state, and turned to me asking, “Are you sure you're going to be all right?”

I scoffed, even though I was having my doubts as well. 

“This is the girl that walked almost halfway across the country.” I winked at him, but he didn’t look anymore comforted. 

“I have to go do inventory from today’s run. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” Bronson squeezed my shoulder and I was once again flattered by his level of concern. He spun on his heel leaving me alone but not before glancing back at me a couple of times. 

I took a deep breath before turning to face the door again. It was silent now and I prayed that Negan didn’t think we had been eavesdropping. I reached my hand to knock on the door, but it opened before I could get the chance.

I ended up ‘knocking’ on a huge set of tits.

_Ergh, knockers?_

_Boobies?_

_Tatas?_

Whatever you preferred to call them, my hand was resting on a pair that did not belong to me. I snatched my hand back quickly. 

The woman who had answered the door seemed unfazed by the incident, and merely stared at me with a look of slight disgust.

I hated her immediately. 

_Hey, what can I say? Sometimes you just know…_

I tried telling myself it had nothing to do with the fact that this woman was probably Negan’s wife.

She appraised me and I did the same. Her golden blonde hair was pin straight and had a small portion of the front dyed hot pink.

_I’d always wanted to meet Avril Lavigne…_

She looked completely out of place in her outfit and I had to wonder where she had gotten such an expensive looking dress from. I hadn’t seen someone in a dress in what seemed like forever, it just wasn’t practical. Everyone wore sensible clothing. It was practically the unspoken dress code of the apocalypse.

Clearly she hadn’t gotten the memo.

The women before me had on a tight, black, knee length, body con dress with a plunging neckline which caused her breasts to spill out. She was gorgeous and I could see Negan’s appeal to her.

However, I wasn’t the type of girl to be self conscious and I stood unfazed before her obvious intimidating technique. Mother always said that true beauty came from within… and not your tits.

Besides if there was a legging and baggy t-shirt contest, I knew I’d come in first place.

“You must be here to pick up the laundry?”

 _Oh hell, no!_ My conscious whispered to me. 

 _Long time no see._ I thought, acknowledging the voice in my head. It’d been a while and I had to admit the quietness of my mind was grating on me.

_No one is allowed to demean you but me! Put that trollop in her place!_

That’s one thing we could actually agree on. I straightened my back, I’d be damned if Avril Lavigne walked all over me. 

I might've been a fan of her music… but still. There was an extent to my politeness. 

But I also knew I had to be on my best behavior if I was going to get answers from Negan. And sadly, that meant I had to be polite and not punch his wife in the face.

“Is Negan here? I’m supposed to see him after lunch?” I spoke as sweetly as possible but the woman was testing my patience, I didn’t bother waiting for an answer.

It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong, I could clearly see Negan smirking at me over her shoulder. “Oh! Never mind, he’s _right_ there. I’ll make sure to give you a good Yelp review.”

His grin widened as I breezed past her, stopping in front of the desk he currently occupied.

“Doll.” He nodded.

“Jackass,” I greeted.

The blonde woman had recovered from her shock at the door and quickly closed it, coming to perch on the front of the desk with a huff. 

I stared back at her, the world we lived in was lawless and at this point nothing was stopping me from putting my boot up her ass.

 _What’s her problem?_ My conscious whispered at me. _This isn’t high school._

If she thought she was going to somehow scare me off with her stink eye, she had another thing coming. I turned my body in her direction.

I’m the motherfucking queen of staring contests.

Ask around.

But before we could get into it Negan clapped his hands together, rubbing them greedily.

“All right ladies, let’s talk about options.”

 

 


	7. F is for Fishsticks (pt.2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 like I promised! I'd just like to say thank you to my readers and the people who have left Kudos, you've made this experience so wonderful. :)

“Options?” I rolled the word around in my mouth tasting it. “What exactly are _my_ options?”

Negan seemed to be weighing the next words that came out of his mouth. While I waited for him to speak I decided to mentally prepare what I wanted to discuss with him. 

For one, how long I could stay at the Sanctuary. I was gunning for no more then three weeks, it was tempting to stay here longer then was necessary but I had to keep reminding myself that this wan’t home. The second issue was my map, and when I would get it back. I needed at least a little insight into where I was, I had approached them for directions after all. My last issue was when I would get my gun back. I understand why he had to take it, but it didn’t make up for the fact that I still felt vulnerable with just my knife in my thigh holster. 

“I like you, do—”

“It’s Kimberly,” I corrected.

Jackass carried on like I hadn’t said anything.

“Here at the Sanctuary, _doll_ ,” I narrowed my eyes _._ “The people here pull their weight. Now you're not the first straggler we’ve had and your options are straight forward. The first option, is to work. We have a points system and if you want anything during your stay; snacks, toiletries, etc… you have to be assigned a job and earn it like everyone else. ”

Negan stared at me expectantly, like the idea of hard work to me was a deal breaker. 

However, I’d expected as much. I wasn’t a freeloader and I’d earned my keep while staying in other camps along the East coast.

I wasn’t a stranger to hard work. 

But Negan wasn’t done.

“I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as someone who isn’t a stranger to hard work. I like that about you.” I couldn’t help but ruffle my feathers at his complement, it was true I had been a fragile flower once upon a time. But months on the road had hardened me. I was a certified badass. “But I want to offer you what’s behind door number two.”

_Ummm, what is this Wheel of Fortune?_

I was pretty sure I was going with option one, even if I had to scrub the toilets. The idea beat sleeping in a tree any day. 

“I’d like to offer you the chance to become one of my wives. I brought Candice here to explain to you the benefits and rules that come with choosing _matrimony_.”

Negan continued talking but I had checked out the moment he mentioned the word ‘wives.’ The bastard had multiple wives? My immediate reaction and to my mother’s complete and utter disappointment was _giddiness._ Not for the fact that I had been invited into Negan’s super secret harem, but for a very different and childish reason _._

_Negan liked me?_

Only in the deepest depths of my mind, would I ever admit that a small amount of me had formed a crush on Negan. It was obviously the insane part of me, that was missing a few essential pieces. 

I was flattered, but there was no way in hell I’d ever share my partner. Negan or not, I was a jealous bitch and sharing was not an option. I physically shuddered as I mentally pictured myself, Negan, and Candice in a threesome. 

 _That’s a no from me…_  

Candice had started rattling on about something to do with private bathrooms and chocolate bonbons. I studied her in disgust.

No.

Negan didn’t like me, he hardly knew me. He liked what he saw on the outside, if it wasn’t overtly clear the way he had saddled me with innuendos from the moment I’d met him and the countless amount of times I’d caught him staring at my tits. 

Candice was soft, and wouldn’t last a couple of minutes beyond the Sanctuary’s walls. My eyes took her in, from her perfectly clean and straightened hair to her daintily painted pink toe nails. 

My greasy hair was tied in a bun atop my head, and my feet were covered in blisters from the countless miles of walking and running I’d committed to. I was missing three toenails, for God’s sake! I’d never be _her_ or any of Negan’s wives for that matter. There was no way I’d put myself under Negan’s thumb. 

I glanced at Negan to find his eyes already on me.

I raised a single eyebrow.

“Candice,” Negan barked the words suddenly and unexpectedly, making her jump. “Leave us.”

His words didn’t leave much room for protest, and she jumped off the front of his desk scurrying out of the room; but not before shooting me a look filled with malice.

I blew her a kiss before turning to face Negan, flushing when I noticed he’d still been studying me the whole time and had no doubt noticed my petty exchange with his wife.

I mentally prepared myself to tell Negan he wouldn’t be getting the final rose.

“I’m not going to be—”

“I figured as much.”

“Then why ask?” I titled my head in confusion, this man was impossible to read.

But instead of answering my question, he leaned over reaching for something in on of the drawers of his desk before taking it out and placing it between us.

My map!

I hopped up from my chair in excitement coming around to his side of the desk, when he began to unfold it. It was a large map of the US, that I had swiped from a kiosk in Times Square before I had gotten the hell out of New York. It was intimidating in size and it unfolded into a whopping 36x36inch diagram, due to it being extremely detailed. I began to point out places in the map where I had scribbled and doodled on, much to Negan’s interest. 

“I was attending NYU, it was my fourth year in an accelerated five year program for government and law,” I pointed to Washington Square Park, before running my finger to stop over where my school was located on the map. “I was going to attend law school after I received my Master’s.” 

I traced the path I had taken across Pennsylvania.

“I met an amazing group _here_ ,” I pointed to Lancaster, PA on the map. “They call themselves the ‘New Beginning,’ they’ve managed to reclaim almo—”  

“A lawyer?” Negan rubbed his beard while he stared at me interest. “You don’t really strike me as the type.”

I snorted, a sound that my mother would immediately admonish me for not being a sound that a “ _lady”_ should make. I hopped up on Negan’s desk, while I carefully considered what I would say next. 

“I was an education major, I wanted to be a teacher like my mother.” I kicked my feet absentmindedly. “But eventually I realized studying to become a teacher at an Ivy League school, was a waste of my time.”

It was Negan’s turn to raise his eyebrow. 

“You think teaching is a waste of time?”

“I’m not sure… maybe?” I shook my head in frustration. “I mean of course not, my mother was a teacher. It’s a wonderful thing she did, I wanted to be just like her. I miss being in a classroom actually, somewhere along the road I just realized… ”

My voice trailed off as my mind was suddenly filled with images of my mother’s face, and for some reason the kids that I had seen in the courtyard earlier today. I was at a loss for words. 

“Doll, I have the perfect job for you.”

 


	8. G is for Gratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaackkkkkkkk! Enjoy!
> 
> New chapter will be up next week... maybe sooner! Lookout for my new story. :)

I leaned forward in interest, hoping that toilets weren’t in my foreseeable future.

“As you know, Candice is my wife…” He sat back lazily in his chair, clearly enjoying the anticipation of the moment. I itched to slap the smirk off his face. 

_For the love of God! Please, no! If I had to be Candice’s personal handmaid I’d end up strangling her._

“But before she took my offer, she was in charge of the children here…the teacher, whatever you want to call it. They were in the courtyard today, maybe you might have saw them.” Negan glanced at me expectantly. So I hadn’t been subtle earlier today during Negan’s tour of the courtyard.

 _If he’d noticed I’d wondered off, why didn't he say anything._  I briefly wondered. 

But his words did answer my questions about why the children had been left seemingly unattended in the courtyard.

“Everyone pulls their weight here, there are no exceptions. Parent or not. The children are left in the care of the “teacher” at sun up, and are picked up at the end of their parents shifts. We haven't found anyone to fill the role yet.”

I snorted.

_Candice…a teacher? I had sat through countless hours of student-teacher evaluations and hours of brainstorming to create lesson plans. From the handful of interactions I had had with Candice, I highly doubted she could teach anything…well, maybe a potato._

“Something funny?”

“Yeah the idea of Candice teaching impressionable children anything…” I trailed off thinking maybe I had overstepped my boundaries, this was his wife after all.

Negan smiled at me then. A genuine one, there wasn’t any cockiness or smugness anywhere to be found. For a second, I could picture him as something else before all this. A man with an actual job, he seemed so normal in this moment. It was easy to picture him shopping at a mall, or even grabbing a cup of coffee.

He looked normal.

“I use the term teacher… _loosely._ It’s a lot of work, but you're no stranger to that. I think you’d be exactly what those kids need, Kimberly.”

_Did he just call me by my first name?_

Inwardly, I was torn. I hadn't planned to be here longer then two weeks and this “teacher” position sounded longterm. Although, the idea of getting to meet those children I had seen earlier today was quickly becoming all I could think about. That was one of the reasons I had wanted to be a teacher originally, children are so pure and full of joy. It was addicting interacting with them, and to be able to soak up their energy. 

“But why me? I won’t be here very long,” Negan quirked his eyebrow. “I mean why not choose someone who’s permanently settled here.”

“You have experience, unlike most of the people here. You of all people know that it takes a certain type of person to deal with children. I have a couple of people in mind for the position. I’ll send them over to you in the next couple of days to train them… that is if you accept?”

I nodded my head. The longer he spoke, the more I was getting used to the idea. I could do this, look after the kids until Negan could find someone to take my role. I’d be earning points, to pay for supplies that I’d need on the road and the kids wouldn't be left unattended. I mean it could be worse…

I shuddered, as images of waiting on Candice hand and foot came to the forefront of my mind.

I held my hand out for Negan to shake. “You’ve got yourself a teacher.”

Negan grasped my hand, and I wouldn’t be lying if I said it was the most wonderful feeling. I hadn't had my hand held in months. His coarse hands rubbed against the blisters on my own, the friction was warm as his hand engulfed mine.

A knocking on the door interrupted the moment, and Negan huffed in frustration before calling for the person to open the door. I quickly snatched my hand back.

Dwight rushed through the door, stopping short when he noticed that Negan wasn’t alone. He muttered a frantic apology before speaking.

“Negan, there’s a problem with Hilltop.” Dwight spoke urgently, and I noticed the way his eyes flickered to where I was perched on Negan’s desk. 

Selfconsciously I went to move from my spot, but Negan placed his hand on my thigh effectively halting my movements and essentially all my brain activity. The exchange didn’t go undetected by Dwight. Negan turned to me, not in the least bothered by Dwight’t outburst.

“You’ll start tomorrow. Be at room 215 at six sharp, the kids will begin arriving at 6:30.” Negan stood up from the desk then, pushing past a puzzled Dwight but not before grabbing Lucille on his way out.

“Show her to her room before you meet me at the gate,” Negan’s whole demeanor had changed in a matter of seconds, the last couple of minutes with him almost felt like a dream. “Don’t keep my waiting.”

He left the room swiftly. 

A couple beats of silence went by, Dwight had yet to move from where he stood by the door. His eyes didn’t meet mine, but stared at the floor defiantly. I watched as his hands curled and uncurled into fists. The silence was becoming awkward and I figured anywhere was better then here, as I made to move by him his hand reached out to grab my wrist. I yelped in protest, his grip was hard and bruising. He yanked me forward, and I had no choice as I lost my balance to fall forward into him. I raised my knee up so that it connected with his groin, instinctively he let go of me to cup himself. 

“Do not touch me. What the fuck is your problem?” I spat at him. My heart was beating in my ear, and I had half a mind to drive my knife between his eyes. From the second I had met him, he had treated me like shit. I was mystified.

He didn’t say anything right away, and our heavy breathing filled the room. From his crouched position on the floor he ran at me, knocking me off my feet. I was unprepared for this and I desperately reached for something to stabilize myself, I only managed to knock some of the books off Negan’s bookshelf before Dwight body slammed me onto the ground. 

I desperately tried to fight him off as my mind tried to make sense of the situation. He scrambled on top of me, dodging my flailing limbs as he went.

“Stop! I’m not trying to hurt you,” His hands grabbed both of my wrists pinning me to the ground. Negan’s office remained almost the way it had been before he had left, except for several books that were now laying on the ground and the crookedness of the rug beneath us. 

I stopped flailing, only when I realized I couldn't break his hold. He relaxed his hold only slightly.

“I’m only going to say this once, and you better listen to me. Stay away from Negan. He might be charming, but if he becomes infatuated with you…that’s the end. He won’t stop until he owns you.”

My mind immediately recalled the words Negan had spoke to me in the RV, and I shivered lightly. Dwight’s face was solemn and I decided that he didn’t seem like the type of person to intervene in other’s business. I’d take what he told me into consideration. 

“You should be grateful,” He held out his hand for me to take, as he got up from his position on top of me. I took it after a couple of seconds. “I’m sticking my neck out for you. Just remember what I said.”

I rubbed my sore wrist, there was a medium sized bruise that looked distinctively like a handprint.

“Yes, I’m very grateful Dwight.”

 


	9. H is for Handprints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Kinda early... *shrugs*
> 
> And hopefully my new story will be up soon! Also I'd just like to note that this story takes place a couple years before Rick and the gang, hence Negan looking so young. 
> 
> That is all.

I followed Dwight, albeit hesitantly, down the winding hallways. My left hand grazed the walls as we walked, a defining silence between us. If it wasn’t for the steady throbbing in my right wrist, where his handprint marred my skin… I wouldn't have thought any different of this moment. While I wanted to make Dwight pay for even laying his hand on me, I couldn’t muster up the strength to be pissed. My mind was to busy processing the warning that he’d given me.  Could I really stay away from Negan? Dwight’s words broke my internal monologue.

“I’m so—,” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe you can find something for that bruise at the Sanctuary’s shop, its like a consignment store. Stuff that we find on runs that aren't necessarily useful. Like… womanly items or chocolate bars. Just tell them to put it on my tab.”

 _Womanly items…?_  

Dwight rambling must have been a way for him to deal with his uneasiness of this entire situation. _Go figures_ , I thought. Still, I listened diligently. I’d pick up a couple of things on Dwight’s tab. It was as close to an apology as I would get. 

We finally stopped in a hallway that had a long series of doors. Dwight turned around suddenly, leaning heavily against a door. He seemed to be mulling over his words before he spoke them and for the first time I had a moment to study his face. Dwight was by no means ugly and at one point before the burn that covered a majority of the left side of his face, I would have considered him more attractive then Negan. But the hardness of his eyes and the frown lines had begun to take over the untouched side of his face, he looked hard and unforgiving. His shaggy blonde hair which was tied back hazardously with a ripped piece of cloth, caused some strands to fall in front of his eyes partially blocking my view of his blue eyes. Relaxed… and dare I say vulnerable? He looked like a normal guy, I felt sorry for him.

_What is with all these men with blue eyes?_

“My wif— ugh, Sherry my ex-wife,” I didn’t miss the quick stumble over the words. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Sherry used to always say that I needed to communicate my feelings better, this is your room.”

He kicked the door he had been leaning up against, before moving to the side to let me in. I walked in uncertainty, not one hundred percent sure that Dwight wasn’t luring me to my demise.

My room, which Dwight told me I was lucky enough to snag because someone had gotten married and moved rooms, was medium sized with a window that overlooked the courtyard. An empty bookshelf sat underneath it . There weren’t normally singles available, but I had come at a lucky enough time he also informed me. I snorted internally at that. The room was simple enough with a full size bed complete with a wooden bed post. My bag sat seemingly untouched on top. Next to the bed, stood a wooden side table and on top a single candle and a box of matches, which Dwight explained was for when I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. 

The first one was free.

I’d have to buy the others. 

“I better get going before Negan kills me,” Dwight turned quickly on his heels, and just like that he was gone. 

“Thanks,” I called after him, a single grunt was my response. 

I closed the door and right then and there I decide that I’d stay away from Negan… and the men running around this compound are complete and utterly nuts.

I laid down on the bed next to my duffle, the bed had two pillows and a single red quilt. I was fortunate enough to be sleeping inside for once. 

Being here wasn’t so bad, crazy men or not. 

I gazed at the ceiling seeing but not really seeing anything in particular. Moments like this, safe and warm in a bed… I hadn't felt like this in forever. It’s amazing what the human race took for granted. 

Lying on my back still, I unzipped one of the smaller pockets on my duffle bag and fished around inside for the item I was looking for. Without fail, my hands pulled out the worn out picture of my entire family. I traced the faces of my mother and father, then my twin brothers only a couple years younger then me. In the picture they held up our youngest brother.

 **Knock. Knock.**  
****

“Who is it?” I yelled towards the door. I was in no mood for company, but also curious as to who could be at the door. Coming here was much more then I bargained for, but so far I didn’t regret anything or the people that I’d met. I’d made so many friends along my journey. It was ironic. I’d left Florida and moved to New York for college to have this great adventure but here among the walking dead, running for my life and not knowing what the future held for me…I’d never felt so alive.

“Kimmy, it’s me!” Bronson’s voice rang through the door. I called for him to come inside and I heard his footsteps approach my bed along with a second pair. I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t even budge. Bronson’s face came into my view upside down, as I continued to stare at the ceiling. 

“Earth to Kim,” A hand passed in front of my vision. “We’re on our way to dinner. Come on.”

_Dinner? How long had I been lost in my head?_

A quick glance out the window let me know that the sun was almost set, but I wasn’t hungry and I would have to make my lips move again to get the message across. 

Another face appeared in front of my line of vision. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Simon. Don’t listen to Bronson, he’s kinda pushy.”

Simon turned out to be a soft-spoken, twenty-something year old and also the boyfriend of Bronson. He managed to coax me out of bed and persuade me to go to dinner with them. I reluctantly agreed, as Simon had grown up in New York and wanted to hear all about what it was like now since he moved away a couple years ago. 

_Probably a pile of ashes, but I’d leave that detail out._

He worked in the agriculture sector of the Sanctuary and he’d seen me when he was working in the field the day I had come in with Negan. 

Apparently, I was all anyone could talk about at the moment. 

We sat down at a small table in the back of the “cafeteria,” a large room with a slew of benches and tables condensed within the area. 

“So… New York,” Simon looked at me over the rim of his black glasses. “The word around here is that you walked right up to the Saviors _and_ your in the running to be wife number five.”

I pushed the food around on my plate. 

Steak, potatoes, and corn.

Apparently only saved for special occasions, steak was rare around here. I pushed the meat aside and dug into the potatoes. Yum, my favorite.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads up about that Bronson.” I glanced up briefly from my plate, and Bronson looked back sheepishly. “Negan offered me the golden ticket and I turned it down. He didn’t seem mad about it actually…”

“So what are you going to do,” Bronson speared my piece of steak with his fork before placing it on his plate, whilst Simon smoothly transferred his potatoes onto mine. I dug in happily. “Job wise, I mean?”

“I’m the new teacher!” I stated proudly. 

“Shut.”

“Up.”

They stared back at me with their mouths wide open. I couldn’t help the erratic giggle that bubbled up my throat.

“Why are you two looking at me so odd?” I pointed my fork at the stunned pair.

“I’ll tell you what’s so _odd_. Being the Sanctuary teacher is one of the more “privileged” positions here. You get to stay inside all day and watch a bunch of brats. Negan interviews you extensively and he chooses you personally.” Simon rattled off, waving his fork and knife around.

Bronson interrupted.

“Yeah,” He leaned in, conspiring with us. “But Negan’s newest _wife_ was super shitty in my opinion, we call her “Candy”. Mostly because that seems to be the only thing rattling around in her head. All of us still aren’t sure how _that_ happened, she _lost_ a kid once Kimmy!”

His voice was steadily raising as he spoke and both Simon and I shushed him. But I couldn’t lie I was having so much fun with these two it was euphoric to have friends again. We poked fun at _Candy_ some more before we settled back down.

“Come on Kimmy, we’ll give you all the info you need to know,” Bronson stood up grabbing his tray and mine. “But first lets stop at the store, I have a sweet tooth.”

I bounded up happily, glad that I was finally getting to go to the store and what I got would be on Dwight’s dime.

—ooo—

The Sanctuary’s consignment store was a large room on the first floor of the factory. An abundance of shelves were filled to the brim with random items each with a little plaque or a slip of paper attached to the item. A brief handwritten description and the price were all that adorned the paper.

Bronson took us straight to the candy section. It wasn’t that extensive, but Bronson told us on a run a couple of weeks back the Savior’s had raided a chocolate factory. 

“Thirty-five points per bar,” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not even real money. I don’t see what Negan gets from hiking up prices every other week.”

“It’s on me boys,” I grabbed a couple from the bin they were in, but Simon’s gentle hands stopped mine. 

“I’m not the most observant person, but is that a handprint on your wrist?” Bronson had scurried around to the other side of the shelf we were currently browsing on, and Simon moved in closer so it was just us.

I didn’t even try to hide behind any pretenses, they’d find out soon enough… after all I was purchasing things here on Dwight’s tab.

“Dwight,” I sighed looking down at my hand, the bruise was becoming darker and a prominent handprint that wrapped around my wrist. I explained briefly what had transpired between us, and Simon seemed angry but not the least bit surprised.

“Just see Doc tomorrow, okay?”

I traced the bruise, before shrugging. I moved back in the direction where I’d seen mini ice packs. I’d grad a couple.

“Simon, who’s Sherry?”


	10. I is for Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BBBAACCCCKKKK! I do have to apologize for the temporary hiatus. I've had so much going on in my person life... my solution? Bookmark my story so you know when I update, and you can check back often! Like seriously, come on guys we can do better. Also, here's a long chapter to make up for my absence.

**ROOM 215**

I peered up at the wooden sign that was hung with a carelessness that could only be done by a child. Smiling softly I examined the words that were definitely written in a child’s handwriting, and in a multitude of colors. I stood alone in the hallway, way earlier then when Negan had told me to arrive. A combination of nerves and the events of the past seventy-two hours had left me unable to fall asleep…figures. I hadn't been able to sleep in a bed for months and the first chance I got— wasted.   
 ****

Tentatively I knocked, and when I heard no answer, I opened the door partway, sticking my head inside to gaze around the room. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. A fully decorated classroom? The room I stood in was nothing more then a room covered in concrete, head to toe. 

Wall and floor.

_Is this the boiler room?_

An old chalkboard hung on the front of the room, contributing to the ‘ _Chainsaw Massacre’_ vibes I was getting from this room. Several wooden benches sat in front of it, and as I moved closer to inspect the chalkboard I noticed a desk pushed up against the farthest wall— that was clearly meant for the ‘teacher’ to sit at. An old clock sat above the door indicating the time.

**5:42 am**

I hummed absentmindedly.

_I still had some time._

The rows of benches gave no indication of how many kids I’d be dealing with, and I’d been too engrossed in the gossip that Bronson and Simon were spewing last night to ask. This sure was a tricky situation I’d found myself in, and I was starting to doubt if being here was a good idea after all. 

Bed or no bed.

As I made my final lap around the room, I couldn't help but notice one important thing. No supplies. Nada, I even moved back to the desk opening the drawers. A box of chalk and several erasers were all that I could find.

This was nothing more then a glorified cell for these kids until their parents shifts ended—the thought depressed me. The only windows in the room were closed, and I crossed the ‘classroom’ opening the windows to let some fresh air in. 

_Slightly better_ , I thought dubiously. 

As the minutes ticked by I paced the large room, lost in thought. I wasn’t nervous. I’d gotten through almost two years of school as an education major, and volunteering in local schools had been something I’d continued with long after I switched from education to law. The thing that bothered me was— Negan had given me no indication on what I should be doing with these kids. I wasn’t even sure what subjects they’d already covered. 

But this was my job now, and I had to figure it out. I sat at the desk near the chalkboard, twirling my hair as I gazed out the window trying to recall something universally fundamental. 

Maybe I could tweak the standard lesson plan, make it the… post-apocalyptic version? Focus on survival skills, and knife safety?

The sound of the door opening interrupted my thoughts and I glanced at the clock before standing up.

**6:01 am**

“Hey,” A foot kicked the door open all the way, causing it to bang against the wall behind it. “Can you give me a hand?” 

The foot just so happened to be connected to a lanky boy, that came up to be no taller then my shoulders. He struggled to hold a squirming infant and a ragged diaper bag, as well as a rolled up blanket. I grabbed the baby, getting a better looker at her. She couldn’t have been more then one, with full rosy cheeks, and a smattering of dark hair. Her brown eyes studied me for a second before she grinned at me, giving me a full gummy smile. 

I cooed at her in disbelief, while bouncing her on my hip. I never factored babies into the equation, was I expected to take care of her too? 

I had to say that I didn't mind, she was the cutest thing under the sun and the thought of Candice putting her hands on her— made me hold her a little tighter.

Once he finished setting down the blanket in the back corner of the room he took the baby from me, without so much as a word, setting her down on the floor before digging into the diaper bag and pulling out a few toys. He worked in smooth movements, giving me the idea he’d done this before. He carried himself with a maturity, that slightly saddened me. 

Obviously he’d been forced to grow up way before his time. 

“So you're the new ‘ _teacher_ ’?” He turned around to face me, emphasizing the word with his fingers, he couldn't have been more then twelve judging by the height. His shaggy dark hair fell in front of his hazel eyes and he pushed it away distractedly to eye me skeptically. “They must be running out of people.”

I pursed my lips. 

“Only temporary,” I paused in consideration, wondering if I should tell the kid I was basically the substitute teacher on a technicality. Eh. I decided to take the high road. Honesty is the best possibly, I amended. “They found me on the side of the road. But I promise in the time that I’m here that we’ll have a blast. My name is Kimberly-Anne.”

“Mason, and this is Anne too,” He motioned to the baby that was gurgling on the floor, before turning back to me. “I appreciate the honesty, maybe you won’t be so bad after all.”

I beamed internally. 

“So is there any materials that you guys…” The look on his face shut me up quickly. “What’s the day usually like for all of you?”

Mason filled me in on at the ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ of their day, it wasn't much to be honest and it depended on the ‘caregiver’ what they’d be able to do. Yesterday had been a rare occasion, no one had come to look after them and as a result— they spent the whole day outside.

“It actually took a little maneuvering on our part. They locked the door,” My mouth dropped open in horror. I’d be discussing this with Negan for sure. “But Lucas and Charlotte, are quite handy with a lock.” He proclaimed proudly. 

“Okay, well we’re going to have lots of fresh air,” He stared back at me dubiously, and I couldn't blame him. “Promise. When everyone else get’s here we’ll talk about what we can do, there’s going to be a couple of changes while I’m here.” I made sure to speak confidently and clearly so he knew I wasn’t messing around. There wasn’t much of an age difference between us, so I’d have to make sure to exert my authority.

They could easily walk all over me. 

He shrugged, before continuing to lay out the important “facts” I needed to know. I was informed when lunch was, and at the end of the day I’d have to bring everyone to dinner where they’d return to their parents. Some of the parents worked late he warned me, especially his uncle.

“Oh,” That reminded me, I should probably introduce myself to the parents of the kids I would be spending extra time with. If it was my kid— I’d want to know who I was leaving them in the care of. “Well, who’s your uncle?”

“Joseph, you’ve probably met him he’s the—” A thunderous sound of feet and children screeching echoed down the hallway, cutting Mason off. He gazed back at me indifferently. “That’ll be the rest of the herd.”

“Cute,” I mouthed at him, before a handful of kids came charging through the door. 

“Who are you?”

“She’s the teacher, silly!”

“Don’t call me silly, you loser!”

“Teacher! Liam called me a loser!”

“Paula, you snitch!”

“Don’t call my sister a snitch L—”

“Ah! She bit me!”

What. The. Fuck.

Almost before I could blink I was surrounded by a cluster of children, poking and tugging at me from all directions. I could barely think as grubby hands, waved frantically in my face trying to get my attention.

_Fucking Negan…_

I let out a sharp whistle causing the children’s chatter to halt. In the sudden silence… I could think. I gazed at the children assessing the situation. There were eight of them in total (including Anne and Mason), all ranging in different ages and heights. My lesson plans would definitely have to stretch to accommodate for the age differences. 

I’d already made up my mind that while I was here, these kids would be learning something. 

“Let’s all sit down so you can introduce yourselves.” I motioned to the benches expectantly, and they began to file over to their seats. Minimal grumbling followed, but I gleefully ignored that as I made my way between the benches to the chalkboard at the front of the room.

“Hello everyone,” I grabbed a discarded piece of chalk and began to write my name. “My name is Kimberly-Anne Victoria Harris. But you guys, can call me Kim or Ms. Harris if you like.” I added a wink, gaining a few giggles from the group. The older ones stared at me indifferently, but that was to be expected. The younger ones were always easier to win over.

“Why don’t we go around the room so I can learn your names, and when you're done— I want you to spell it out for me, so I can write it on the board.” This would serve me two purposes. To have an accurate roll to keep track of the kids, and where each child was on the learning scale.

Mason stood up first, saying his name clearly and finally spelling it out with an air of boredom— but not before stating: “Don’t forget to write Anne’s name.”

“How could I, we have the same name?” I beamed at him before quickly writing his and Anne’s name underneath mine. The kids upon seeing what I was doing began to call out their names. But I quieted them with a look before gently reminding them we would be taking turns.

A lanky girl, with a cracked lens in one of her glasses frame stood up confidently flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder before proudly spelling out her name. 

“J-A-N-E,” She beamed at me proudly, and I returned it kindly. I could tell she’d be a teachers pet. I moved on to the next person.

“Liam,” He spoke confidently, pushing his long auburn hair out his eyes. I thanked him for spelling his name before I motioned to the little girl next to him. They were the spitting image of each other— natural red heads, and I couldn’t help but stare at the small girl beside him. She was all curls and peered up at me through her eyelashes, one hand clutched in her brothers shirt— the other to a ragged doll.

“And what about you sweetheart,” I motioned to her, making sure to keep my features soft. “I’m sure you have a beautiful name to match you're beautiful red hair.”

“Charlotte,” She spoke quietly before motioning to the doll in her hand. “And this is Merida.”

Liam spoke up then, almost defensively— taking me slightly off guard. “She can’t spell.”

“That’s all right, that’s why I’m here.” I humored her and wrote both Charlotte and her doll’s name on the board before going back and showing everyone in the room how to spell both their names.

Introductions continued in a similar way. I was introduced to Paula and Evangeline, gorgeous   little blonde and blue eyed sisters who regarded me cautiously. Evangeline politely requested that I called her ‘Eva.’ And then finally Lucas, who gave me slight trouble by refusing to spell out his name. 

I didn’t push him, apparently he didn’t talk much.

This was everyone who was under fourteen at The Sanctuary, anything older then that had a job Mason informed me. While the idea slightly appalled me, I realized it had to be better then staying here all day. But at the same time it befuddled me, so this was the extent of education? Some of these kids hardly knew their alphabet. 

My mother would have wept. 

I decided that reading would be my biggest focus— kids had to know how to read, right? It was one of my favorite things to do as a child, and it saddened me that they’d never get to read the classics. 

But still, there were so many things you could learn from reading a book. Maybe I should ask Negan if I could borrow a few from his extensive collection? I mean it _seemed_ like he cared for these kids— at least to a _certain_ extent, the lack of materials and overview certainly showed.  

With that decision firmly cemented in my mind, I spent the rest of the morning going over the alphabet. 

When the kids began to get restless, I suggested we go outside.They cheered enthusiastically before rushing to get what little things they had brought with them. 

So far I was making this day up as I went along, but my options were limited more-so indoors. 

The kids were already waiting for me impatiently at the door, and I grabbed Anne, only after asking Mason if it were okay. He begrudgingly accepted my help as he packed up her bag, and I settled her onto my hip. She stared at me wide-eyed for a moment, before I pulled funny faces getting her to laugh. I didn’t miss the wistful look Mason shot in our direction.

——-

“Who’d like to hear a story?” We’d all trudged out to the front of The Sanctuary and the kids sat scattered around me in the afternoon sun under an oak tree. It was a little off from the action of the front gate and the gardens, granting us minimal interference and noise— with that in mind, I counted heads before getting comfortable. Cradling Anne in my lap, I began the story of _Goldilocks and The Three Bears_. 

“There once was a girl named Goldilocks, with hair as beautiful as… Jane's!” I began pleasantly enough, Jane preened under the compliment flicking her golden hair over her shoulder. “Her mother had a request…”

The children seemed to enjoy the story, and when it was over I made sure to explain what a moral was before asking them what the moral was for this story.

Everyone began to speak at once, so I held my finger to my mouth waiting for everyone to quiet down.

“If you know the answer, then you can raise your hand and I’ll call on you.” Three hands shot up, and I called on Charlotte. 

“You can’t get caught, stealing.” She delivered the answer with such innocence that I couldn’t help but snicker.

“Good answer, Char,” I amended, before I called on Lucas to answer the question. He looked so much like my brothers when they were little, and it pained me slightly to look at him. Wide eyes, the shade of cinnamon. A button nose, and skin the color of chestnut. I glanced down at my own skin, only several shades lighter. “Come on, Lucas. What do you think was an important lesson from the story?”

He hesitated momentarily, gazing around at everyone apprehensively. “The moral of _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_ is that individual actions can hurt others, especially when one person uses or destroys another person’s property. In addition, the fable stresses the importance of self control and respecting others.” He relented, we all stared at him momentarily stunned and he returned our gazes evenly. “What? I was in gifted classes.” 

_Ok, duly noted._  

“What’s a fable?” Paula turned to me, her cherub cheeks were flushed from the heat. 

“It’s a short story with a moral, and the characters are usually animals.” I explained. The sun had steadily risen and I realized the kids must probably be thirsty. I know I was. “Eva and Liam, do you think you guys could manage to go to the kitchen and get our afternoon snack?” 

Mason, ever the helpful one, had informed me that the kitchen made snacks for them that would need to be picked up. They agreed eagerly, and the rest of us waited for them to return. 

We had a small meal of iced tea served in a large pitcher, and a large bowl of mixed fruit from the garden. Everyone dug in, getting their fill, since there was almost two hours until noon aka lunch. 

After the kids finished up, they began a game of tag chasing each other within the boundary that I’d set. Mason hesitated glancing between Anne and the rest of the kids. Something told me he’d had to give up a lot to care for his sister.

“It’s okay Mason, go play. I've got her.” I assured him, before he zipped off chasing after the other kids.

I watched the kids with one eye, and Anne with the other while I bounced her on my lap. She was so cute I could eat her up. Her wide eyes, and gummy smile were quickly doing me in.

_I wonder if Doc would give me a few? Wait! What if he had a wife?_ I thought, with a sudden panic. I’d never stopped to consider that a possibility, and while he had been nice that didn’t necessarily mean he’s been flirting back with me. _But then again, I didn't see a ring._

A pungent odor, pulled me from my quickly growing pity party. Doc, was handsome and talented. He probably _did_ have a wife. My thoughts were as sour as whatever was waiting for me in Anne’s diaper.

I laid her down gently on her blanket before reaching into her diaper bag, holding my breathe as I finished cleaning her.

_How could something so cute… create something so nasty?_

“There we go, sweet girl.” I nuzzled my face into her belly, blowing raspberries, causing her to yank my hair while she gleefully laughed. I fixed her onesie back into place, before pulling back on her bottoms. “I don’t think I’ll have kids Anne, can I adopt you?”

“Seems like you're enjoying your job,” The voice caught me off guard and I cocked my head slowly sizing up Dwight, before turning back to Anne. She stared up at him curiously, head cocked. “I know, Anne. Did you hear that? It was probably just the wind.”

“Very funny,” Dwight pursued his lips before leaning up against the tree I was currently keeping refuge underneath from the Virginia sun. He gazed wistfully at the kids playing. They looked so carefree, even I had to admit that I was jealous. “I just came to check on you. See if your hand was all right.” He admittedly spoke, gazing down at his boots awkwardly. 

Begrudgingly I spoke. 

“Thank you for the points, it was very nice of you.” My father had always said that would be my downfall. A soft spot for people with a sob story. Lucky for Dwight— he had one. A _very_ shitty one. It made me resent Negan even more, he’d permanently mutilated Dwight for the sake of a selfish cause. 

“What are you doing back here so soon anyway?” I'd gotten the impression that the Saviors stayed out all day. A rigorous “job” filled with no breaks. “You didn't call in sick did you?”

He feigned indifference, but I could see a slight smile pulling at his lips when I teased him. From the angle at which I stared up at Dwight’s face I could almost forget about the other half that was scarred. He looked relaxed without the weight of Negan leering over him. “Negan had me stay back today, I’ve got an inspection later today for agriculture.” 

“Huh, well since I've got you here,” I motioned to the kids running around. “Why is it that there’s no supplies for them? Pencils, paper, even children books.”

“I guess we've never really had a need for it. I mean no ones really asked us to keep a look out  for those things while were on a run. The people in this role before you— they were glorified babysitters.” He hesitated. “Maybe I can take you out with us sometime,” Dwight refused to look at me then, staring determinedly straight forward. “You know, maybe you can find somethings that would be helpful why you're here.”

I squeezed his hand quickly, letting him know I appreciated the idea. 

“That would be great Dwight,” From here I could see how quickly the kids were tiring out, so I began to pack up Anne’s things with slight difficulty before I passed her to Dwight who stared back at her cautiously. “Hold her for a second? It’s easier when I have my hands free.”

They gazed at each other, sizing the other one up, the whole time Dwight tried to dodge Anne’s grubby hands. What can I say? The girl had a thing for hair.

“Kids! Were heading to lunch!” They ran back towards me eagerly, and I motioned for Dwight  to hand Anne back to me. I saddled her diaper bag in one hand, prepared to take her in my other.

Wasn’t it only a couple days ago when I was sleeping in a tree? Now I had eight kids. Huh, would you look at that.

I counted heads making sure I wasn't forgetting anyone. 

“Oh, and Dwight?” I threw the object quickly at him, and he caught it easily enough. “Deal with that will you?” 

I cackled with glee, as I led the kids away. I hadn’t entirely closed the diaper and it took Dwight only moments to figure that out too.  

What can I say?

Payback is shitty. 

“Was that Anne’s diaper?” Mason asked falling in step beside me, his hair was windswept and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. I tousled his hair some more.

“It sure is kid…it sure is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys should totally check out my other story "The Waterfall," it's super good and I've been blown away by the response to it.


	11. J is for Joseph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've been kind of MIA this week, but that's because I've been working hard on pre-writing chapters. I'll be out of the country for the next week, and that means no internet! The good news? Three new chapters today. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Ms. Kimberly,” Jane tugged at my shirt. “I don't want the day to be over!” 

I was quickly learning that Jane tended to steer more on the melodramatic side. _Same girl, same_. I gently loosened her fists in my shirt before reassuring her. “I’ll see you tomorrow Jane, promise.” We intwined pinkies, a simple promise— which I was quickly learning was life or death to these kids.

We were currently in the process of lining up to go to the cafeteria for dinner, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little relieved. Today had been exhausting to say the least, and while I couldn't get enough of these little munchkins— I needed a nap. There were also several things I needed to address with Negan, that alone was sucking up what little energy I had left.

“All right troops, march!” In a single filed line— which had definitely taken a lot of practice on their part— we walked to the cafeteria. A passed out Charlotte rode on my back, and I was just thankful she was a tiny thing for her age.

Getting everyone’s trays before herding them to a designated table had been easy enough, especially with the practice from lunch, and I sat a half awake Charlotte down in front of her tray before turning towards mine. I thanked Lucas, who’d been quietly conversing with Liam, for carrying my tray. 

Todays dinner consisted of chicken, a mixed vegetable medley, and a whole potato. I pushed away the chicken before digging into the veggies. The cafeteria was quickly filling up with people coming in from the end of their shifts, and I made sure to keep a look out for the kids parents.

_I wonder where Bronson and Simon are?_

In my second scan of the cafeteria, I noticed that the boys were only moving there vegetables around on their plate. “Boys, each your veggies, they’ll make you big and strong.” I urged them. 

Lucas and Liam scrunched up their noses in dismay.

Jane, ever the inquisitive one, spoke up then. “But you're not eating all your food either, your chicken to be exact— why is that?”

I sighed.

Jane had managed to get everyones attention, and I could see the beginning of a mini uproar in my midst. 

“That’s because I’m a vegetarian, I don’t eat meat.” I responded neutrally.

Jane dropped her fork after a minute of consideration. “I’m a vegetarian, too.”

“No, you’re not,” I replied offhandedly, Anne had begun squirming and a flustered Mason passed her to me. She’d already taken her bottle, and her nap was definitely overdue. I rocked her softly, while transferring my chicken over to the boys who attacked it rabidly. “You can decide when you're older, all right?”

“How old is old?”

_Hmm, good question._

“How about…when your mother starts asking you, when you're going to give her grandchildren.”

Dinner went on without a hitch after that, each of the childrens parents— or family member, came to pick them up and I introduced myself. I wasn't entirely sure if I was tooting my on horn, but I think a majority were just happy that I wasn't Candice— the thought made me chuckle quietly, cautious of the sleeping baby I held in my hands. 

Eventually dinner was almost over and Mason and Anne were the only two kids left at the table. It was getting pretty late and I rocked a passed out Anne in my arms.

“He’ll show up,” I wasn't sure if I was reassuring Mason or myself. Mason’s eyes held a hint of resentment, so I gave up trying to get through to him— at least for now. “Why don’t we go find him?” 

_Whoever this guy was, he couldn’t be so bad. He’d raised Mason and Anne after all, I’d give the man a ‘Get out of Jail’ free pass and deliver his kids to him… just this once._

I stood up careful of the sleeping baby in my arms, and Mason reluctantly agreed, clearing both our trays. 

I followed Mason curiously through the maze of hallways, before promptly zoning out. Being here at The Sanctuary almost felt like a dream compared to the last couple of months, and now there were so many things to consider. Like Negan— he was so infuriating, and albeit painstakingly handsome. He was also the only thing standing in my way of Florida.

 _This looks idly familiar,_ I thought as we came to the end of a hallway. Before I could connect all the puzzle pieces, still lost in my disconcerting thoughts of Negan, Mason opened the door to the infirmary. 

_Sweet baby Jesus, Mason’s uncle… is Doc?!_

Some people call that fate, folks. Me? I call it the story I’ll tell our grandchildren. 

We stepped into the room, and other then a man laying on one of the beds with his ankle elevated and wrapped— we were alone.

“You can just leave us here,” Mason shrugged. “He’s probably making a house call, he runs late a lot.”

Uh, yeah. I don’t think so.

“It’s all right,” I amended. “I need him to look at a couple of things anyway.”

 _A couple of things indeed,_ I thought lavishly. 

 _You're terrible,_ my subconscious harped at me. She appraised me from her metaphorical pedestal that she sat upon painting her nails. 

 _Long time no hear,_ I greeted her.

_Well, when you're making so many poor decisions— how could I not step in?_

She had a point.

But I really did need Doc— Joseph, to take a look at my hand. It’d been bothering me throughout the day, and lifting children wasn’t exactly speeding along the heeling process. I’d also taken off my head bandage, way sooner then he’d told me too.

 _Well, your just begging for it, aren’t you?_ My subconscious sat, legs crossed with her hands tightly folded underneath her breasts. The hem line of her skirt had also magically lengthened.

We didn’t have to wait long, and several minutes later Docs bulky frame came through the doorway of the infirmary. He was looking down at his notes and didn’t see us right away. Mason remedied the situation by clearing his throat.

“Oh jeez, Mace,” His face immediately contorted in comprehension, as he finally seemed to notice the rapidly setting sun out the window. “God I’m so sorry I forgot. But where’s An—”

I waved as his gaze landed on me, a sleeping Anne passed out in my arms. I tried not to take offense, he was probably just out of it from a long day.

“Well, Doc,” I motioned to Anne somewhat awkwardly, trying— and failing to remain casual. “We meet again.”

“She’s taken Candice’s position,” Mason piped up. 

Doc, or should I say Joseph—? Appraised me as he stepped forward, I handed him Anne. Surprisingly missing the warm weight of her in my arms. 

“Well, Kimberly,” I tried not to show how much it pleased me that he remembered my name. “Thank you for looking after Mace and Annie.” He smiled sheepishly. “I can probably look at your head while you're here, it's the least I can do.”

He made his way over to one of the cots, getting Anne situated so she wouldn’t roll off. Mason must have been tuckered out from the long day, because pretty soon he was passed out on the next cot over.

“So you're Candice’s replacement,” I sat on the examination table, while he gingerly dabbed at the cut on my forehead. “That must be interesting, but then again it has to be better then running around and patching up the Saviors all day.” He motioned to the guy in the corner. 

“You know Candice?” I couldn't help but inquire, the way he spoke her name had an air of familiarity. 

“We’ve met, but I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Ok…

His response was short and clipped, and we spent the rest of the time together in a somewhat awkward silence.

 _Well, thats what you get for being nosey._ I couldn't let my disdain show, but I had to admit my subconscious had a point.

When he was done, I thanked him slipping through the door before he could say whatever was on his mind. Whatever it was, I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

I made my way to Negan’s office with only minimal difficulty.

Hesitating for only a moment, I knocked on his door. When he answered, I let myself in shutting the door behind me. _Why do I feel like I just nailed the final nail in the coffin?_ There in all his smug glory, Negan sat behind his desk calmly sipping a glass of brandy. He held a book in one hand— and obviously not learning from only a couple moments ago— I craned my head to get a look at the title.

He was reading _It,_ by Stephen King. How fitting.

Nervously, I smiled. I really hadn’t thought my plan through this far. “Negan, I’m very glad I caught you. I have some things that I’d like to—”

“Why don’t you eat?”

_Huh?_

Well, that was an odd question, I _did_ eat. 

“Don’t lie to me? I’ve been told by my staff that you hardly eat. You push around the food on your plate, and let me tell you something, doll— I work _hard_ to put food on this table. What it’s not good enough for you?”

His slight animosity and frustration was throwing me for a loop. _What the hell is with these men, and shitty attitudes today?_

 _Maybe theres something in the water_ , my subconscious tried to offer a solution.

“Now, I get if you're trying to do the diet thing— but doll, you've got a banging body and I don’t really think you need to be depriving yourself. You could stand to tighten up a little…” He motioned to my stomach, and my mouth dropped open in disbelief. _Fucker._ “But overall... 9 out of 10.”

“Can you just shut the hell up for a moment, so I can process what you just said to me. Also that last statement was very problematic, and I don’t even know where to begin.” I paused sizing him up. “What exactly are you talking about, I _eat_.” He was getting me riled up, and I put both hands on his desk— leaning over so I could emphasis each word. He just had the type of effect on me, he could take me from zero to one million, very quickly.  

“You nibble at the greens, and don’t touch the meat. Come on doll, you can tell me. What’s wrong with my _meat_?” He leered at me slightly, but I could tell he was getting way to much joy from this conversation. Any explicit reaction from me, would only make him happier.

“Ok, stop it,” I held out my hand, in exasperation before breathing in slightly. “I’m a vegan, turned vegetarian.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to do?”

I stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about _Negan_?”

“I’m saying, _Kimberly—_ what the fuck does that do _?_ I’ve seen the _PETA_ commercials. There aren’t any factories on the West coast slaughtering pigs— at least, not that I know of. You guys won, you can have bacon again.” He finished with a flourish, waving his hands before him and settling back in his chair. Almost as if he was waiting for me to bow down and kiss his toes for the hefty amount of information he’d dropped on me.

Fucker.

I moved around to his side of his desk, hopping up on the edge and folding my hands neatly in my lap. I even leaned in closer so he’d get the full effect. 

“You sir, are an ass— no, a jackass.” I finished with a flourish, mimicking the way he had just waved his hands.

“But I’m your jackass,” He leaned in closer, making me backpedal. I opened my mouth in protest but he beat me to the punch, speaking before I could. “Why are you here? It can’t be to keep up this riveting banter, although I have to say I quite enjoy it. It’s been a long time since someone was able to… excite me the way you do. But you know that already.”

How many more times is he going to tell me that?

Although, I couldn’t deny the way my body felt when he admitted that… what? He liked me? Or did I just make him horny? The thought excited and pissed me off at the same time— the two emotions warring— but eventually the second one won out. 

“Yes, Negan, I walked halfway across America, tracked you and your people down— almost got _shot_ in the fucking head, so that I could be _here…_ in this moment to have you insult my body _and_ my morals.” My hands were waving frantically in the air, as I tried to emphasize the fuckery of this movement. “And as for your excitement— keep it in your pants! I’m only here temporary.” 

“So you say,” His gaze which had been playful since we started, what I hated to admit was very engaging banter, lost some of its mirth. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, doll. What exactly do you hope to achieve by taking your sweet ass down south, you've been lucky so far. But who’s to say your luck won’t run out?”

I was expecting this, it wasn’t the first time I’d been asked this question. “One of the last messages from my father was a voicemail telling me where they’d be. I know its not much, but…” My voice trembled slightly with the conviction of my words. “It’s all I have.” 

“No, it's not. Marry me,” He paused letting his words sink in, and my eyes widened slightly at the conviction that I found in them. God only knows what was going through his mind. “Stay here and be one of my wives, I promise you that whatever is in Florida is not much better then what’s here.”

“Stick it up your ass, Negan.”

“On the contrary doll, I’m hoping to accomplish that— on you.”

I blanched. “I came here to ask you for books, you have a shit ton and I’d really appreciate it if I could borrow some to read to the kids.”

There. I said it.

This conversation was obviously going nowhere, and it would do me no good to go any further down the road we were currently on.

“On one condition,” I let him continue, prepared to shoot down the idea of any sexual suggestions. “You eat dinner with me on your days off.”

My smile was blinding as I accepted his offer, no doubt taking him a little off guard. If eating with Negan on my days off were all that he was asking for— well, deal.

“Deal!” I paused. “When are my days off exactly?” 

“Saturday and Sundays,” He sat back in his chair, his face showing slight suspicion. “That’s the Sanctuary’s down time, we split the people in half. They either get one or the other, but lucky you, doll. You get off both days.”

Huh, just another perk of being the Sanctuary’s glorified teacher. I wonder if I get health insurance.

“You still keep track of the days of the week?” I questioned. How odd, I hadn’t thought about what day it was since my phone died. The days all just kind of blended into one. 

“Of course doll, were not animals,” He gestured around us. “This is a certified, ‘Grade A,’ fully functioning society. Todays Tuesday if you were wondering. If you don’t believe me there’s a giant calendar in the main part of the factory.”

I shrugged indifferently. “I guess I kind of forgot about it, being on the road this whole time— it never even crossed my mind.” I clasped my hands, hopping off the edge of his desk where I’d been sitting. “Well, now that we got that out of the way, let’s talk about your book selection. Do you have any fables?”

We made our way through Negan’s colossal amount of books in his office— apparently this was only a small fraction of his entire collection.

“If I see anything else, I’ll bring it down to the classroom.”

I thanked him graciously, I had made out with three childrens books I was really excited to show the kids tomorrow. _The Little Prince, The Complete Tales of Winnie The Pooh, and Alice In Wonderland_ — all some of my favorite books growing up as a child. I was already thinking of ways I could incorporate lessons from the text. 

I marveled at the options I had in this room, and when I asked him why he had so many— his simple response: “You can never have to many books, doll. I’m a reader.”

I agreed heartily, and we spent the next hour discussing our favorite titles. We both found that we had a shared love of Stephen King novels, and he lent me _Misery._ One of few titles I hadn’t gotten around to reading. Leaving his office, I carefully balanced several books in my hand, as I shut the door with my left which was now adorned with a watch Negan loaned to me.

 _That wasn’t so bad, Kimberly-Anne. You got everything you came for and more._ I preened internally, making my way back to my room.

 _You still have to have dinner with Negan, though…_ My subconscious snidely pointed out, effectively putting my happy thoughts to an end.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing I cou—

“Eek!” My foot caught on something, causing me to drop all my books in an effort to brace for the impact of the hard ground. I fell at a bad angle, my face scraping the concrete as I landed.

“ _Kimberly_ , how are you doing this glorious night?” Candice’s tinkling laughter filled my ears, making me instantly recognize her, even though I could only partially make out her outline in the dimly lit hallway. “Not so snarky on the ground are you.” She taunted, before her foot come down firmly in the middle of my back— leaving me immobile. “If I see you leaving _my_ husband’s office one more time, I swear to God I’ll make your life a living hell. Let this be your only warning.”

The clicking of heels on metal flooring was all I could here as she walked away.

“Fucking. _Negan._ ” I ground out between clenched teeth.


	12. K is for Kickball (pt.1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Gotta love Negan.

I gazed at my face in the murky mirrors of the women’s bathroom on the third floor, I couldn’t deny that my face had seen better days. Three scratches ran adjacent to each other on the left side of my face, ending almost at my chin.

What is it about the people here that makes them want to cause me bodily harm? Negan, Dwight, and now Candice— you've got to be shitting me? Damp, and wrapped in a borrowed towel from Simon. I let the internal monologue that had been bouncing around in my head all day, fall from my lips.

“What have you gotten yourself into Kimberly? I should have never asked them for directions, had it really been worth it?” I questioned my reflection. When these was no response I turned away, disgusted with myself. I’d only been here two days and I had wedged my way into someones marriage, gotten a job, and made friends I couldn’t imagine leaving. 

I made my way sluggishly back to my room, collapsing atop the covers in my borrowed towel. 

The showers were only a short distance from my room, so I didn’t bother to get dressed. 

_Pathetic, I know._

The pile of books on my nightstand, only seemed to taunt me and send my happy mood further plummeting into the ground. I wasn’t a girl who particularly hated conflict, but I couldn't deny I was getting into something fierce. 

 _Maybe it would be better if I just left now?_ I pondered tirelessly. For once my inner voice, was quiet. 

A sudden knock on the door tore me from my thoughts. Startled, I pulled on a pair of black capris leggings and a baggy t-shirt over my head hastily before answering the door.

If it’s Candice, I might kill her.

If it’s Negan, I might kiss him.

 _I don’t think I’ve told you today, but—_ My subconscious smiled at me softly _. I am so extremely disappointed in you._

Same girl, same.

A cheerful Bronson, and a slightly sheepish Simon stood at my door. I ushered them in without a word, and internally I brightened. Maybe someone was looking out for me somewhere. Friends were just what I needed right now.

“Kimmy, we didn’t see you at dinner, so we came to get the lowdown on your first day.” Bronson beamed at me, and held out a chocolate bar for me to take as well as an orange cream soda. “We come bearing housewarming gifts.”

“Oh, thank goodness you guys are here,” I took a deep breath in. “So much has happened today, and I don't know whether to pack my bag or climb a tall tree, and make it my permanent residence. There’s too many problems here, and I don’t know if I can stay!” I was breathing raggedly by the time I had gotten everything off my chest, as I graciously accepted the food they’d bought for me.

Stress eating does solve _everything_.

They both sat down on my bed, both now exchanging worried glances. I couldn't blame them however, because— well, I was kinda a smudge away from losing it.

“Breathe, its going to be okay, Kimmy,” Bronson’s blue eyes locked with mine, making me instantly calmer. “It sounds like what you need is a word vomit.” He glanced at Simon before continuing. “See, I think it’s hard for anyone to say what’s truly on their mind, especially during this shitstorm. So I came up with the ‘word vomit,’ where you shut your brain off and let your mouth do the talking. I find that when you just speak from your heart, it tells you things that not even you initially realized.”

Huh, it sounded like a pretty good idea.

Bronson taking the bait, instructed me to clear my mind, take a deep breath in— and let it all out.

Seemed easy enough.

I sucked in a deep breath, there in front of the my bed, I placed both hands on my duffle bag  before shutting my eyes and letting multiple images run through my mind: My family, Negan, the group of children in room 203. Even Dwight passed through my mind.

“I like being here but I feel guilty because I should be making my way to Florida— but I’m not because I really like it here and I like you guys. I miss my father, he’s always believed in me but I don't think I’m as strong as he thinks I am. And I need to see my mother to tell her that, I’m sorry and to top it all off—” My rant became less melodramatic, and more dramatic. “Candice tripped me in the hallway, and threatened to bury my body in the woods because she thinks I have feelings for Negan. And you know what— she might be right. I know he’s a shitty man, and he does horrible things. But for some reason my fucked up mind, doesn’t see it that way. It sees a man that puts on a mask, just like the rest of us. And I can’t help but think…” My lips trembled as I spoke the words a mere whisper beneath my breathe. “I want to be the one that takes it off, that sees what’s underneath it.” 

I collapsed between them on the bed, the mattress groaned in protest but we all ignored it. 

“Well,” Simon pushed his glasses up his nose, as he glanced at me sideways. “That sure is quite a lot, have you thought ab—”

“Hold up, did you say that you've got feelings for bossman aka Negan aka the guy who shot you yesterday.” I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from Bronson, but it sure wasn’t… this.

“Has it really only been two days?” Simon questioned. “It feels like longer.”

“Huh, it does, doesn't it?” I cocked my head, doing the math on my fingers. “Would you look at that, two days.”

“Can you two cut the shit,” Bronson nearly screeched before dramatically flinging himself sideways off the bed.

 _Jeez, I really did misjudge him the first time I met him,_ I thought watching him as he picked himself up from the ground and begin to pace in front of the bed. We watched, Simon and I, splitting the chocolate bar as Bronson came to terms with the latest development of my torrid love life. 

“First of all Kim, I’m sorry that you miss your parents. I know we all miss someone, me— I really can’t say. My mother died when I was young and my father was a soulless alcoholic that couldn't accept that he had a gay son. Frankly, I’m glad that the bastard’s dead and I get to be with that lovely piece of man candy you're sitting next to.” Simon blew him a kiss. 

“As for Candice— screw her, I really don’t know her backstory. She kind of just appeared over night. But I do have to say be careful when it comes to dealing with her. She’s Negan’s wife, and you're not.”

“Because I didn’t want to be in a harem, I said I had _feelings_ for Negan— not that I could control them.” I interrupted, before he silenced me with a look.

“Sad to say it Kim, but she has sovereignty.” Simon quickly butted in, before Bronson continued with his spiel.

“The thing is Negan might be a dick, but he’s our dick,” He motioned to the air around us. “He looks out for his own and all he wants is us to follow his rules— no matter how “ _stockholmy_ ” that may sound— living here is effortless. Albeit there is a slight risk of getting your face burned off. Lucky for _us_ ,” He motioned to himself and Simon. “We like dick. But I digress— last week a couple of the Saviors were giving me shit about being gay, and Negan actually stood up for my ass. It was subtle, and I had to ask one of the guys what had changed. He told me Negan had threatened to have them skinned alive if they came near me again.” 

He came closer looking me deep in the eyes.

“I’m not saying that magically makes up for all the shit he does. He’s crass, rude, and selfish. But if you want to go and fuck around with him— do it. Because there’s only today, can you do better? Um, fuck yeah. Maybe someone who doesn’t carry their named bat around with them everywhere they go. But it's your choice, and Kim? I know damn _well_ you can make it to Florida… because you're Kimmy _fucking_ Harris. The strongest bitch I know, and I _know_ your dad would be proud wherever he is. Florida or not. _”_

Simon and I both clapped as Bronson finished his speech, a little out of breath he bowed collapsing back onto the bed with a flourish.

“Thanks B, that means a lot,” I hugged him, and pretty soon we were all hugging and laughing. “I still don’t know what to do about Negan, and the situation with Candice is all fucked up. I just wish she hadn't pushed me, now my pants are ruined.” I pouted, only half joking.

“I can get them washed to you and back by tomorrow morning, I know someone in laundry,” Simon offered, which I graciously accepted. 

They left shortly after, and on a whim— I unpacked my suitcase. I put the tattered photos of my family on my dresser and the clothes in the drawers, before shoving the duffle bag underneath the bed. 


	13. K is for Kickball (pt.2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for a week or so! Let me know what you think and leave me some Kudos! They mean the world to me. :)

The following morning I awoke to a loud knocking on my door. Groggily I peered at the borrowed watch on my nightstand, letting out a small groan when I saw the time.

**4:31 am**

I stumbled in the dark to the door throwing it open without a moment’s hesitation, a yet again sheepish Simon stood on the other side.  
****

“I’m really sorry Kim, but they weren't able to finish washing your jeans on time,” He held his hands out offering me the clothes in his hand. “I brought you some options from the ‘Lost & Found’ box that I think would be your size.”

I waved him off without a word, shutting the door before falling back onto my bed— my eyes were closed before my body even hit the sheets. The pile of clothes laid discarded on my dresser… whatever. That sounded like a future Kimberly problem.

**5:44 am**

I awoke to my alarm a little before six, and got up from bed stretching before making my way to the window. I opened it basking in the cool breeze, and briefly observing the early morning sunrise before turning to get dressed.

“Shit,” I cursed as I realized Simon stopping by my room only a couple hours ago wasn’t a dream like I’d initially thought. My favorite pair of jeans were nowhere to be found, and I was too ashamed to admit it— maybe not that much— they were my only pair.

T-shirts, leggings, bras— hell, even lingerie. I’d packed them all. But jeans… that had completely slipped my mind. I’d also forgotten a comb, but what can you do when you're packing a bag in the middle of the night after waking up to New York City literally burning down around you? Those were the same jeans I had rushed to put on in a haste, before narrowly escaping with my life.

With no other choice, I eyed the two options Simon had left me. The first was a distressed pair of daisy dukes, which I immediately casted aside. The second was a long floral skirt, that I studied momentarily before slipping it on. It ended just above my ankles and had a small slit that exposed my right leg when I walked. Seeing no other option, I pulled out one of the many tank tops I actually thought to bring with me. I gathered the borrowed books from Negan, but not before strapping my thigh holster with my knife onto my right leg.

“I can’t believe that I only packed _one_ pair of pants,” I groused as I pulled on my boots, I really did make quite a sight.

The kids certainly had a lot to say about my outfit choice. Mason when he walked through the door wrinkled his nose, before he spoke. “You're not trying to pick up my uncle, are you?”

“Not with the way he was acting last night,” I mumbled underneath my breath in response. Doc was nice to look at, but he was shaping up to be a ‘Grade A’ Edward Cullen circa _New Moon_. “And what exactly do you know about “picking up” anyone?”

He snorted. “More then you do— obviously.”

Lucas was next offering me a small smile and a one worded compliment: “Pretty.”

That was progress and I thanked him, unable to resist giving him a kiss on the cheek.

When everyone had arrived, we spent the morning going over the alphabet and the spelling of their own names. It was the best I could do, especially with a lack of supplies. The children took turns in pairs, going up to the board and practicing their penmanship. When it had gotten bright enough I suggested we move class outside. Liam’s father (one of Negan's Saviors) had gifted him a kickball which everyone was excited to play with.

Once again I found myself with little Anne in my lap, underneath what was steadily becoming our tree. The children had made me carve **‘Classroom 203’** into its bark and I readily agreed, if not for the memory when I was gone.

The thought made me sigh as I watched Mason wind up his arm and throw a particularly hard ball towards Liam. The boys had been very aggressive today, something I had to chastise them for a handful of times already. Liam kicked the ball with the side of his foot causing it to gain some air and come soaring in my direction. I shielded Anne’s little head as the ball became stuck in the very tree we were sitting under, a few twigs and branches fell around us.

“What did I tell you boys abut kicking too hard?” I told them as they came running over, the game essentially on pause. They looked apologetic for the most part, but I could see Liam’s eyes straying to his ball every so often. He looked heartbroken. “Kids! Gather around.” I passed Anne to Mason, who gazed at me in wonder as I tied the long skirt I was wearing in a knot at my knees. “I’m going to school you younglings on how to climb a tree.”

The ball was wedged between two branches, in a particularly high spot but after spending hours on end in nothing but trees I wasn’t that worried about it. The kids began to cheer as I deftly made my way up the tree’s branches. Maybe I was showing off just a touch but I balanced on one foot carefully toeing off both my boots— the kids erupted in laughter— before throwing them carefully down. Climbing further up the trees trunk, I carefully kicked the ball with my foot causing it to fall as I held on with only two arms. 

My crazy kids jumped around the tree, excitedly chattering away to each other and pointing at me basically hanging from a tree branch like a sloth. The commotion from them was beginning to attract attention from others in the courtyard. I paid them no mine, shouting down to the kids I’d be there shortly.

The view this high was just too amazing not to linger for a few moments, from this height I could see the entire courtyard and if I turned my head, the whole permitter of the metal fence that surrounded the Sanctuary. Carefully I began my descent, but paused when something caught my eye near the corner of the fence closest to me. I’d almost missed it. 

I squinted my eyes in concentration. The figure was almost too far away to say for certain. But I was sure it was a person. My head spun in confusion, and I grasped the branch I was holding onto harder so I wouldn't fall.

No, it couldn't be— could it?

I regarded what looked like a figure in some sort of all white drapes, the figure unmoving as it observed the Sanctuary's courtyard, going seemingly unnoticed.

“Ms. Kimberly!” One of the kids called up and I glanced down only for a moment, but when I looked back up— the figure was gone.

Mystified I made my way back down the tree, there was no way what I saw was actually real. I certainly was losing it. 

I’d almost been certain— for a split second— that I’d seen my youngest brother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a cliffhanger! I'm such a little shit :D


	14. L is for Liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! So I got back into the country yesterday and I'm super excited to share this chapter with you guys. I'm actually freaking out hardcore about the response, this is not where I saw the story going but I have to say I like it. Let me know what you guys think!

The rest of the week passed in a blur and I watched it with a sense of detachment that wasn’t entirely normal. When someone spoke to me, it was like they were talking to me from the other end of a tunnel— distant and echoey. I could see the glances of concern, but I let them roll over me like waves. I couldn’t help it, or stop these feelings even if I wanted to. The same words played on a loop in my head over and over, like a broken record.

_My brother is alive. Charlie is here. How could he be here? Of all places here, thousands of miles from home. He’s here, and I saw him._

The thoughts were intrusive and obsessive, coming to me at all hours of the day. They suffocated me until they were all I could think about, and sooner— rather then later, it began to show. My eyes were bloodshot and red, dark bruises adorned underneath both, and as I got out of bed on Friday morning I couldn't help feeling like I was on the verge of some colossal break down.

The kids were kind to me today, obviously noting that something wasn't right— things hadn’t been right since I’d climbed that tree. But I put on a smile, and began the day as best as I could. 

I feel that it’s important to stress the word _best._

While we were going through our morning routine of vocabulary and reflection from yesterday. The thoughts came to me then, suffocating me in its intensity.

_That couldn’t have possibly been Charlie, you're obviously going crazy. You're not meant to teach these children anything._

Later, when I was demonstrating knife safety and the materials necessary to build a fire I was blindsided once more.

_That couldn’t have been Charlie, it was too far away to tell. You're just seeing things, there was no-one there._

I kept what I had seen in the tree to myself. Why wouldn't I? What I’d seen was obviously a hallucination of some sort. I kept telling myself this repeatedly, not sure if I was being convincing enough. But it wasn’t until we were at dinner, the kids collecting their trays and moving towards our designated table did the thoughts really hit me. 

_Charlie can’t be here, he’s dead just like the rest of them._

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, although I had to give homage to the camel. It’d been beaten nonstop all this week and the aggressor was— is, Candice. She’d been taunting me this whole week, her and another one of Negan’s wives— Heather. Both had mysteriously set up a blanket not far from the children and I’s designated tree, and essentially invaded our little slice of paradise. I’d had to deal with scathing glares and nasty comments— so much so that the children were starting to notice, and I told them to pay them no mine.

“Do you want me to hit her with my slingshot,” Liam regarded them cautiously, while brushing his auburn hair out of eyes. As flattered as I was, I refused the offer. I had an image to uphold. “Just say the word, Miss.” We returned to our lesson, and I tried my hardest to follow the instructions I’d given the kids.

Up until now Candice hadn’t touched me again physically, it was only from afar that she launched her attacks— and I could live with that. After all I had so much on my plate as it was. 

The kids took their seats at dinner, and I counted heads making sure I had everyone. The cafeteria was filling up faster then usual and I waved absentmindedly at Lucas’s mom as she came over to gather him. Finishing the count, I realized I was missing one. Anne tugged at my unruly hair and I let her as my eyes instantly spotted Charlotte— her red hair an easy giveaway. Taking her very large tray from one of the kitchen staff,  I watched as she carefully juggled it and her doll, Merida.

When she was in hearing distant I spoke, “Char, sweetie, next time you need help with your tray let me know.” She grinned at me giving me a nice view of her two missing front teeth, she was adorable and innocence personified. The flower crown that sat delicately on her head, which I had taught the girls how to make early today, was crooked and her fiery red hair was windswept and tousled from running around earlier. In short, looking at her made my heart swell. 

These kids had given me so much love, it was sad to think I’d have to leave that soon. 

I watched the next few moments in slow motion as Candice’s foot appeared out of seemingly nowhere, tripping Charlotte. I watched too stunned, as she crashed to the floor with her tray unable to catch herself because of the way she’d been holding her doll.

Charlotte got up slowly too stunned to say anything, but I could tell by her quivering bottom lip that she was on the verge of tears. I ran to her quickly putting myself in between her, and the grown women that had made her stumble.

“It’s all right sweetie,” I assured her while simultaneously pushing her behind me and assessing Candice and her little crony. “Are you fucking insane?” I spat at her, my voice and mannerisms doing a complete 180. As usual Candice was the picture of perfection, the streak of pink in her hair as vibrant as ever.

“Kim, what’s going on?” Simon sauntered up to us, a tray in hand. He was sweaty from working outdoors all day, and his words were tinged with surprise— and worry, lots of it. 

“I’m fine, Simon,” I passed Anne to him, and he took her shooting Candice a quizzical look. “Promise. I’m just going to help Charlotte with her tray and then we can all eat dinner.” I shot Char a small smile, but I could see her watching the situation, her eyes flittered between Candice and I. The tension was so pungent even she could sense it.

“I took a look at your map,” Candice cut in, sneering at me. Her usual pretty features were almost disgustingly morphed with the intensity of hatred she held for me. Heather stood behind her hesitantly, but I could see her eyes straying to the exit every so often. We were gaining quite a large audience, it was only a matter of time before word would travel. She leaned forward, almost as if she was conspiring with me, but she still spoke loud enough so everyone in a close vicinity could hear what she said. “It makes sense, it really does— and I have to commend you for your efforts. But it's certainly impossible— Negan certainly thinks so. He really does find it  funny, we had a good laugh about it last night while he was fucking me.” She pulled down the collar of her top so I could see the bruising on her neck from Negan’s lips. The smugness in her face and eyes… there was no way she was lying.

I quickly masked the hurt on my face so she couldn’t see, what did I expect? I had turned down Negan’s marriage offer multiple times. I had no claim to him, I’d no reason to feel so… angry.

Oh, wait. I did.

My hand shot out quicker then I’d initially thought it would— my body had made the decision before my head could. The sound echoed and I watched with sick fascination as her head turned sharply to the right.

Silence.

I heard the kids gasping behind me and I felt the heat on my palm, as I slowly realized what I’d done. 

_Kids look away, your teachers about to seriously fuck some shit up._

Negan, I could give a shit about him. But Candice had pushed Charlotte who was still cowered behind me, and covered in her dinner. I channeled all my hate, anger, and frustration at the stunned blonde in front of me.

“Listen here, bitch. You can mess with me— that’s perfectly fine. Fuck you _and_ Negan. But touch one of my kids—now or tomorrow— and I promise that you’ll live to regret it. I’m not scared of you, and I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” I stepped forward so only she could hear, our spat had the entire attention of the cafeteria. “You've mistaken my maturity for weakness—big mistake. I will bury you.”

She swung at me then, narrowly missing my face but that was enough. I shoved her, and the audience in the cafeteria erupted in catcalls and cheering. My head swam and I tried to concentrate, but I was too slow and her fist caught my jaw causing my head to snap back. 

“Kimberly,” Simon yelled, he couldn't do much as he held a wailing Anne with his right arm and an angry Liam back with the other. It was simply too much.

Iwantedthenoisetostop.

Ineededittostop.

I balled my fist getting ready to strike again, but a pair of strong arms held me beck— hindering me from hitting Candice. 

“Wha—”

“Are you fucking nuts,” Dwight’s voice cut through the static and the uproar in the cafeteria. Charlotte had bursted into tears and Simon was simultaneously trying to calm her as well as Anne who was reaching for me. “We need to get out of here—now. Kimberly! Move. NOW.”  He was shoving me in the direction of the exit, and my joints moved stiffly before registering the shit storm I had just walked into.

“Kim! Go! I’ve got the kids,” Simon shouted over the commotion. Others had gathered to see what was going on, and Candice seeing the opportunity— began to wail that I’d hit her first.  Liar. She was a fucking liar. Someone shouted that Negan was coming, so I didn’t what any logical person would do— I ran.

Our boots made a ferocious pounding on the metal floor as we ran through the halls, I wasn’t sure where we were going so I let Dwight lead me. His right hand firmly grasped mine, as we ran through the halls— my heart firmly in my throat. 

I shrieked as we almost ran into a blonde woman, but instead of stopping we made a sharp turn narrowly missing her. I glanced over my shoulder, watching her mystified facial expression morph into something else entirely.

Dwight and I burst through the front doors of the Sanctuary, and made our way over to his truck parked near the front gate. Getting the general idea, I scampered into the passenger seat as he put the car in drive. We sped out the front gate, both observing but ignoring the shocked looks we got from the guards on duty.

 “Thank you,” I spoke, the words merely a whisper. 

Dwight grunted in response, and I sat back finally relaxing as I watched the blurred terrain pass before my eyes, the truck taking us farther away with each passing second. And before I knew it the humming of the engine, and the quiet music on the speakers beckoned me towards unconsciousness. 

* * *

I awoke in the middle of a grassy field, and alone in Dwight’s truck. Slightly disoriented I stumbled out the passenger side, trying to understand where we were.

 _We_.

Dwight sat in the bed of his pick up, legs crossed at the ankle, atop several blankets and pillows. And as I made my way around the back of the truck I studied my surroundings, taken aback by the natural beauty.

We were parked on a large field, the grass almost reaching my waist. In the distance, I could see a decaying fence and a barn not to far off to the side. It was warm enough, and I cherished the soft breeze that made the grass sway gently. 

“Hey,” I spoke quietly, almost as if I was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment. The moonlight softly illuminated Dwight’s features, and I watched him take a drink from his flask. “Where are we?” I asked after a moment of silence on his part.

I was in the process of climbing in beside him when he answered me, “An abandoned farm not far from the Sanctuary, I like to come here and think.” He motioned to the fence. “The area’s been fully cleared out for a while.”

“You did that all by yourself,” I wondered aloud, accepting the flask when he offered. The burning taste of liquor, warmed my throat and settled in my belly.

“You’d be surprised what people would do for some peace and quiet.” 

“You sleep out here?” That certainly explained the blankets and pillows.

“I like to watch the stars, and think,” He paused. “I’ve had a lot to think about lately.” I glanced up and was absolutely stunned by the amount of stars crammed into the night sky. It was almost as if someone had spilled diamonds across black velvet, I hadn’t seen the stars like this in years.

“Oh my,” I gasped, watching as a shooting star shot across the sky. In the next moment, it was gone. 

“It’s amazing how many people forget to look up,” Dwight nudged me then. “Why are you crying?” He touched my cheek, feeling the wetness. 

I shrugged, “My brother Charlie, he wanted to be an astronaut. He loved the stars.”

“I understand,” If there was anyone who understood how I felt it was him. “Sherry used to love driving out to the countryside and watching the stars.” He sighed wistfully, taking another swig of the flask before passing it back to me.

“You still love her?”

“I think I do,” He hesitated before he spoke, “and I think she still loves me.”

“But Negan…” I tried not to let the bitterness seep from my words when I spoke his name but it was next to impossible. So I motioned to him with the universal sign for ‘why.’

“Fear,” He took the flask from my hand, taking a longer drink. “She had her sister to think about, and after she died I think she never wanted to feel that way again— helpless. From where she is, I think she believes that she can control what happens to her now. She’s… happy.”

I snorted, “Are you?”

“Want to explain to me, why you and Candice were going at it like two wet cats in a barrel?” I pursed my lips at the way he completely changed the subject, but didn’t push it any further.  Besides, I had a lot to think about. Like what would happen when we eventually returned to the Sanctuary, where no doubt Negan would be waiting for me. I gave him the heavily edited version. “You're fucking crazy, but I have to say you aren’t the only one who’s wanted to put Candice in her place.”

“Is Negan going to kill me,” I wondered aloud.

“Maybe,” He capped the flask. “Maybe not, Candice is a coward for pushing that little girl. I’ll vouch for you, my word means _something_ to Negan. Don’t worry about it. I figured we can look for supplies while were out here… that is if you want to?”

I nodded shyly, “Thank you, Dwight. I needed this.” I motioned around us somewhat airily, still enjoying the warm feeling in my tummy from the whiskey. 

“S’okay,” He reclined fully, folding his arms behind his head. “I could see that’s somethings been bothering you.”

Almost as if on autopilot, I filled Dwight in on what Candice had said— or rather had done with Negan. I didn’t have to tell him how much it wounded me, he just knew and I appreciated him not telling me I told you so. Instead he said, “Negan’s a piece of shit, but that sounds like him.”

“Well, Sherry wouldn’t know a good man, if he bit her in the ass.” I retorted, “Guess we’ve both got shit taste.”

He remained silent but the side of his mouth quirked up, letting me know I hadn’t crossed an invisible line. 

“I’ve got something stronger, if you really want to drown your sorrows,” Dwight offered after a beat of silence, I cocked my head studying him. But he wasn't looking at me— rather, anywhere but. “Or we can sit here as long as you want, it’s too late to go looking for supplies. We can head farther north in the morning.”

I touched his forearm gently, finally getting him to look at me. “Thank you,” I leaned forward. “I can’t thank you enough,” I squeezed it again, biting my lip when he didn’t look away.

Instead we both leaned closer.

In the closeness of him I could smell his unique scent. He smelt of pine needles and tobacco, and I leaned even closer our mouths both barely open— both of us savoring the sweet whisky on each others breath.  

 _Fuck Negan_ , I thought, and in the next moment— I closed the distance between us.

His lips were surprising soft against mine, and incredibly warm. The taste of the whiskey he’d started drinking long before I woke up, enveloped my senses. He was everywhere. Dwight leaned backwards pulling me into his lap, and I went willingly. Running my hands across his shoulders and gripping them firmly, I pulled myself closer before he broke the kiss.

“Just for tonight,” He breathed into my ear and I understood, we were both pining after different people. But we needed this. 

“Tonight,” I relented. I was pissed, he was pissed. It seemed perfect. There was no love, just two tired and hurting bodies— seeking comfort.

I unbuttoned the clasps on his shirt, pushing it off his body and letting it pool around his waist. 

“I didn’t bring you here to do this,” He remarked as he pulled my top over my head.

I giggled, and we both ignored the slight hysterical edge to it. “God, I hope not. We’re both a little too old for a booty call.” I unclipped my bra letting it fall. 

His hands were warm and calloused as they caressed the newly exposed skin, and I arched further into his touch. For once, my mind gloriously empty. They slid up my back, pulling me closer as his tongue danced across my flesh hardening first the right, then left nipple. I clutched him tighter, letting my head fall back.

“Is this okay?” His hand reached for the waistline of my jeans, and I nodded as he lowered me onto my back, seemingly producing a condom out of thin air.

“It’s perfectly okay.”

Our bodies moved languidly together, finding a rhythm that seemed to satisfy us both, and in the moonlight I gave myself over to the moment.

* * *

The night was exceptionally quiet. I slowly swam to the surface of my consciousness becoming aware of the speakers playing. I listen as a soft voice crooned out into the night air. I listened intently to every word.

_Would you hold my hand_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

“Dwight,” I spoke softly not wanting to shatter the moment. We both laid on our backs gazing up at the stars, both seemingly lost in thought. The only part of us touching was his left hand making absentminded circles on my naked hip.

“What is it?”

I took a deep breath in, not taking my eyes off a particular star that seemed to shine brighter then the others. “My family is dead.”

_I'll find my way through night and day_

_Because I know I just can't stay here in heaven_

God, it felt good to say that. Almost like I’d been carrying an invisible weight on my chest. I didn’t dare tell him what I’d seen only a couple of days ago— the boy in the white robes— obviously it’d been my mind playing tricks on me.

_Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees_

_Time can break your heart, have you begging please, begging please_

"You don’t know that for sure,” He spoke hesitantly, but I could tell he didn’t believe his own words.

“Yeah… I think I do.”

_Beyond the door there's peace, I'm sure_

_And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT A DWIGHT/OC PAIRING. I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DWIGHT PAIRING. I've just never really liked how Negan gets to be with multiple people while the main character just silently pines away in her room. Ok bye. Leave some kudos. :)


	15. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like any event that changes you forever, it can be split into halves: Before and After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Whoop! Sorry it's so late I've been working hard on a couple of things I can't wait to share with you guys.

**4 WEEKS BEFORE THE NEW YORK OUTBREAK**

“Do you really have to go Annie,” Charlie licked his ice cream cone, careful not to get any of it on the interior of my car. He sighed when I told him—again— that I had no choice. “I don’t like it when you go,” He pouted slightly. “Bradley and Chase don’t hang out with me like you do.”

“I’m sorry, Chunk,” I responded, while carefully maneuvering the car wheel and eating my popsicle at the same time. It's a skill I tell you. “But I’ll be back for summer break, which is sooner then you expect.”

“But that’s in five months,” He whined. “Tell me again why you can’t come for spring break?”

I rolled my eyes, I must have told him at least a thousand times already. “Because it’s too expensive to fly from JFK to Orlando, and the parentals already bought my Thanksgiving _and_ Christmas ticket. Besides I've got finals, Charlie.” We pulled into the driveway, and he unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out of the car before I’d even fully pulled the car to a complete stop.

He was mad, but he’d get over it.

I however, took my time getting out of the car— savoring my last moments of warmth and sun. New York was already so cold, and the sun was beginning to set earlier and earlier each day. It was only a matter of time, before the city would be blanketed in snow.

I’d miss the sun, family dinners, and the constant arguing of my brothers. 

This was home.

Toeing off my shoes at the front door silently, I picked them up heading in the direction of the stairs— privy to the squeaking floorboards. I’d tentatively placed one foot on the bottom step, when my mother’s voice traveled from the kitchen.

“Kimberly-Anne Victoria Harris, I hear you! Get in here.”

“Fuck,” I cursed quietly under my breath.

“And stop cursing,” She shouted. 

_How the hell does she do that?_

I made my way reluctantly to the kitchen, taking my time— savoring the last few moments of my happiness, per se. I’d been successful in avoiding my mother for the past month, and it was all apart of my master plan— I swear. If I wasn’t around she couldn’t drill me about how my education classes were going. Or lack thereof. 

I rounded the last corner of the hallway, making my way into the kitchen. My mother stood over the stove, her shiny blonde hair pushed back in a messy bun. Long dangly earrings in both of her ears sparkled as she moved around hastily getting dinner ready before my father came home from work. 

It was summer vacation, meaning my mother— who was an elementary school teacher— was temporarily unemployed and had a lot of free time on her hands. Her hobby this summer: baking. A batch of purple cupcakes sat cooling on the counter. 

We looked nothing alike— except for the nose. I had her nose. She was absolute perfection… and I wasn’t. I had just enough time to study her attire— an off the shoulder sun dress, and wedged heels. Before she turned around, the familiar look of slight disapproval settling onto her perfectly symmetrical features. 

“Really, Kimberly-Anne,” She motioned to my leggings and t-shirt combo. “What happened to that pretty romper I bought you last week. Go put it on.”

_Really, she had to scream… for that?_

I grimaced— externally, but went upstairs anyway to do as she asked, if only for the peace and quiet. It’s not like I didn’t like my mother, far from it, we had a pretty healthy combo of good and bad moments. But it seemed like lately all we were having was… bad. It’d taken me awhile to figure it out— our dynamic, but it’d finally come to me after a particularly bad argument in a very public venue last fall. I might not have gotten much from my mother look wise, but through and through— I was her. We were the same— personality wise, and I’d come to the conclusion over this break that we would never see eye to eye. 

I closed the door to my room, and was immediately assaulted by the article of clothing on my bed, perfectly laid out with a matching set of earrings. The romper was… cute. I’d give my mother that much, but it was too dressy for dinner time.

I put it on anyway. 

It fell a couple of inches above my knees, and was a little too clingy for my liking. But at least it was my favorite color, periwinkle. I walked back down the stairs, taking as much time as I could. I was stalling… but sue me. Since I’d switched my major almost a year and a half ago, I couldn't stand to even look her in the face.

 _I’ll have to tell her before I go to law school._  I thought numbly. When _she finds out there’s no way she’ll support me._

I mentally sulked thinking about the lack of cash flow that would be in my future, only glancing up when the front door crashed open banging noisily against the wall. My twin brothers bustled in, still dressed in their soccer gear. I greeted them accordingly. 

“Brothers,” I moved towards them but paused when I caught a whiff. “Jeez, you both stink.”

“Sister,” Bradley, the oldest by five minutes, greeted me back in are customary greeting. We’d always referred to each other as such: Brother/Sister, and I never saw it changing. 

Chase threw his gym bag down by the door, before speaking. “Mom was pretty pissed at you this morning. You took Charlie, and only left a note.”

I shrugged. “She got over it. I wanted to go to the beach to watch the sunrise, and I needed the company,” I punched him in the shoulder. “Speaking of Charlie, you punks better be nice to him while I’m gone.”

I dodged Bradley’s fist. _Cheaters_ … always ganging up on me. “Well, it's not our fault you choose to go to college out of state. We,” He motioned to Chase over my head as all three of us walked to the kitchen. “are staying local, so the parentals will buy us a new car.”

_They had me there._

My brothers enthusiastically greeted my mother, and I hung back, watching from the kitchen doorway as she ate up their affection. My brothers were a perfect blend of my parents, they had my mothers eyes and my fathers mouth. Both complemented the other perfectly, and to top it all off they’d gotten my mothers perfect blonde hair. I pulled at my own— a mixture of browns, and kinky in all the wrong places. I also had the eyes to match. I’d ended up in the middle with my complexion, but I considered it a good thing, I tanned well. I was pretty— but there always seemed to be something that I could “improve” according to my mother. 

Funny how Charlie and I had the same hair, but my mother never said a word to him.

Charlie had been the cutest baby by far. A chunky little thing, with a head full of dark curls. To this day I still affectionately called him chunky or ‘Chunk’ for short.

The first thing I’d said when they brought him home from the hospital: “Finally! Someone who looks like me.”

I smiled slightly at the memory.

“What are you thinking about, Kimmy?” I jumped as my fathers voice cut through the haze of thoughts in my head, and he motioned to my outfit. “You look beautiful by the way, are you going out after dinner?” I rolled my eyes, whilst kissing my father on the cheek.

“No dad, mother insisted I dress up for the cutlery,” I mockingly curtsied as we all pitched in to set the table. I carefully avoided my mothers haughty gaze, and ignored the comment about me being a ‘smartass.’ “You're still taking me to the airport tomorrow, right dad?”

“Of course Kim, just be ready when I leave for work.” My dad always left before the ass crack of dawn, something I wasn’t especially looking forward to tomorrow— and going back to New York, I couldn’t say that I was too excited about that either.

“Are you excited to go back and see your kids,” My mother asked, watching my every movement closely. I decided to play it off naturally. Even though the ‘kids’ and the teacher I’d been 'shadowing' didn’t even exist.

“Of course,” I chuckled before directing my attention towards Charlie. The little booger was inconspicuously feeding his broccoli to the cat. “and I’ll miss you too, Chunk.” I tweaked his nose, causing him to laugh and spit his food out on the plate. 

“Kimberly-Ann—”

“It’s just Kimberly, mom,” I interrupted her.

“Fine,” She huffed blowing a strand of hair out of her face, “Kimberly, please set an example for your brother and _act_ your age.”

I rolled my eyes, but remained silent— she’d gone out of her way to make me tofu tonight. I knew when and where to pick my battles.

* * *

Later that night, I sat propped against my pillows in bed. A steaming cup of tea sat on my nightstand as I flipped idly through a Stephen King novel. The minute I’d left the kitchen table I’d torn off the silly romper that my mother had forced me into, quickly donning my sweatpants and t-shirt, before slipping beneath my bed covers. 

My duffle bag sat beside my bed, packed and ready to go for tomorrows flight.

A knock at the door, signaled I’d had company.

“Come in,” I’m ashamed to say I sent a quick prayer to God, hoping that it wasn’t my mother. I couldn't handle that stress— not right now.

My father entered the room still in his work clothes, he looked tired but brightened when I gave him a small smile. “For as long as I can remember, I’d come in here and find you snuggled in bed with a book and a cup of tea. Just like your mother.” His expression was serene, as he stared at me from the doorway.

“If it wasn’t for mom I wouldn’t need to take so much downtime,” I smiled to let him know that I was joking— kinda.

“Well, goodnight sweetheart. Just checking in,” He flicked the light off, leaving us softly illuminated in the light coming from the lamp in the corner of my room.  

“Wait, dad,” He paused at the doorway. “Why have you been working so late, you're always home before 6:30 so we can watch the news?” I really was curious as to what case he was working on now— it must have been a big one, and I was eager to find out. The aspect of law always did intrigue me— maybe that’s why I’d changed career paths. I always did admire my father and his line of work.

His face became blank and I watched as the light slowly left his eyes. “It’s nothing to worry about— nothing of importance,” He seemed to be almost talking to himself, as he stepped closer to my bed sitting down on the edge of it.

“What’s the matter, daddy? Are you okay?” He was concerning me. He was always so jovial, running around with the twins— pulling pranks and making jokes. I hadn't been the only one to notice a change in his demeanor. 

He leaned closer to me, almost as if he had to tell me a secret. “You are so strong and beautiful Kimberly, have I ever told you that?” I giggled, only all the time. I was his favorite, I’m sure of it. Only he could make me laugh and feel like a little girl again, and I'm twenty-three damnit! “Go to bed princess, we have an early morning tomorrow.”

He was gone before I could say anything else. 

Unsettled, but otherwise helpless I settled back into my bed. Several minutes later I sat up as there was a knock on my door again. I knew who it was this time. 

“Charlie.” 

My little brother burst through the door and launched himself onto my bed, and I had just enough time to roll over to avoid an elbow to the kidney. 

“Story time,” We both cheered. From as long as I could remember I’d read Charlie a story every night. We’d been through countless stories— from children’s book to literature classics, and even at thirteen years old Charlie was still as eager as ever for our little night time ritual. Tonight’s story was one of my personal favorites: _The Little Prince._

“Where’d we leave off, Chunk?” I affectionally asked, as he curled up beside me in bed.

“Somewhere in the middle, I think,” He rubbed his eye groggily, but listened as I read aloud how The Little Prince landed on a planet and fell in love with a rose, before leaving and befriending a fox. “Wait, I don’t understand,” Charlie cut in as I read, and I paused to look over at him. He could barely keep his eyes open as he lightly dozed beside me. Up until this point I wasn’t even sure if he’d been listening. 

“What don’t you understand, buddy?”

“What did the fox mean when he said, ‘It is only with the heart can you see rightly?'” He quirked his head, and peered at me from under his lashes.

“Well,” I pondered pulling him closer, my heart simply aching at the thought of not seeing Charlie for five months. “I think he means that the most valuable things in life cannot be seen with just your eyes: love, determination, hope. Those are the things that really matter— not toys or your video games,” I tweaked his nose. 

“So I'm important to you?”

“Chunk,” I sighed. “You're everything to me, and I mean _everything_. You're my rose, and I promise, just like The Little Prince— I’ll always come back to you.”

“Promise, Annie?”

“Promise.”


	16. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like any event that changes you forever, it can be split into halves: Before and After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOP! Double upload this week…kinda. I’m really hoping to get this story wrapped up, so bear with me and I’m estimating at least 15 more chapters or so. Thank you all so much for the support. Check out my new one shot, The Spare. It’s smutty and full of Negan. :)
> 
> ***I ALSO CHANGED MY USERNAME... so tell your friends :) ***

**4 weeks later…**

The sharp ring of the fire alarm startled me from my sleep, and I awoke disoriented. My bloodshot eyes swept the room frantically before I realized someone had probably set the alarm off by accident— a common occurrence. The dorm building I lived in, was one of several on Union Square. This wasn’t the first time one of the other buildings alarms had woken me up, we were in such close proximity of each other.   
****

“Hey, what’s going on?” My roommate Denise, stared at me groggily from her bed on the other side of the room.

I peered back at her just as confused, squinting in the darkness. I could just barely make out her expression in the limited light streaming in from the street lights outside. “It’s nothing I think one of the buildings fire alarms went off. It could be a drill,” I shrugged. “Maybe someone was smoking.”

I got out of bed, figuring that I should probably clear away the mess I’d made last night. The room seemed to spin as I stood up, and I groaned— in emotional and physical pain. My head still throbbed from the argument that I’d had with my mother. I’d never cried so hard in my life, and I’d said things that I wasn’t sure how I could ever begin to apologize for. The countless used tissues scattered across my bed seemed to mock me, and I grabbed the trash can dumping the discarded tissues and the empty carton of Ben & Jerry’s I’d demolished last night, too.

_I’ll just call her in the morning when she’s had time to cool down. Everything will be back to how it used to be in no time._

I glanced at my phone, checking the time—

**2:31 am**

And noticed, that I had eight missed calls from my father. _Odd,_ I thought. My mother had probably told my dad what I’d done, no doubt she’d given him _her_ side of the story. 

“Feeling better,” Denise propped herself up on her bed, reaching for her glasses on the window sill, that was situated between our two beds. “I know you said a lot of things last night you didn't mean, but maybe its for the best that you got it all off your chest.”

_Ever the optimist…_

“She’ll get over it,” I responded, a little numbly. “But you're right, it’s my life.” I added, and she nodded encouragingly.

“Whoa,” Denise breathed from the window once she’d put her glasses on— she was completely blind without them. “Shit! Kim, look! There’s a man hanging out the window. I think he’s going to jump.”

I turned sharply, this wasn't the first time that we’d seen something crazy in New York. Living in the middle of the city, it was simply inevitable. But a suicide plot— that would be a first. I hurried over, fumbling slightly with the strings so that I could pull the shades up and together we peered out the window, breaths bathed. 

My cellphone vibrated angrily, the sound muffled by my sheets.

The person in question, was presumably another NYU student, since he was in an adjacent residence hall across the street. The male was clad only in his pajamas, which were sticky and stained with something I couldn't identify. That’s all I could see, his back was to us as he hung precariously out the window. He seemed to be trying to climb to another window sill, and I watched as several pairs of hands reached out the window to grab him.

I never understood, why he let go.

His body made a sickening thump as it collided with a close car parked on the street, before coming to his final stop in the middle of the road. The car alarm went off, and we watched his motionless body in shocked silence.

Several more lights when on in the building across from us, and somewhere down the street an ear piercing scream ripped through the night air. The sound, it was unlike anything I’d ever heard— pure, unfiltered, raw fear. A feeling of unease settled low in my stomach and I moved from the window, backing away from a hyperventilating Denise who had tears streaming down her face.

My phone buzzed again, and this time I answered it with slightly shaking hands.

_Something isn't right._

“Kim,” Denise waved frantically at me, her voice barely above a whisper. “What should we do, should we call the cops?”

“Daddy, what’s going on!” I motioned to Denise, who was still blinking blearily down at the twitching boy lying in the middle of the road, to move away from the window. She looked shaken but I didn't blame her, we’d just seen a person die. Sighing, I joined her at the window again. 

“Kimberly,” The urgency in my fathers voice, sobered me quickly cutting through the layers of panic that were beginning to suffocate me. Outside people were beginning to gather around the body, and we watched shaken, “Listen to me, you need to pack a bag and get out of the city now! There’s something going on, and there not telling us much—” I could hardly hear him over the chaos on the his side of the line, he was breaking up and I could barely understand what he was trying to say over the static. “Pack a bag and leave now, I can’t explain what’s going on yet— but stay away from people that seem sick, okay?” I nodded my head even though he couldn't see me.

“Okay,” I answered, to let him know that I understood— although I wasn’t sure if I did. I just knew something wasn’t right.

“Do you still have the knife and pepper spray,” He questioned. I told him I did, although I’d never had a reason to use them. Did I now? I glanced out the window— maybe I did. “I’ll call soon, I have to go check on your mother and the boys,” I told him I loved him, but he had already hung up. 

There were several things I had learned after spending twenty-three years on this God forsaken Earth. One, people were dangerous. They were selfish and cruel and would discard you in a heartbeat. Two, my father had witnessed all this as a Marine and even now as a Homeland Security agent. If he believed that there was something that was bad enough to tell me to evacuate— I’d trust him in a heartbeat. I could hear the fear in his voice, nothing every made my father scared. 

I grabbed the duffle bag from underneath my bed, only startling when the firm alarm went off in our building. It was piercing and loud in my ears, and only served to make me more anxious, my thoughts were going a mile a minute, but I diligently did what my father had told me to do. I threw clothes frantically in a bag, anything I could get my hands on. The sense of urgency had returned, and I hesitated only for a moment, before ripping my pictures off the wall and stuffing them into the pocket of my bag. 

Outside our door, I could hear people screaming, and Denise whimpered from her position by the window.

“Denise,” I shouted, running over to shake her from her frozen position. “You need to pack a bag, so that we can go! My dad says that there’s something going on, and we need to get out of the city.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I snapped, but not really meaning to. “But there was screaming from where he is, he said to stay away from people who seem sick— and I know its crazy, but we need to just go!”

“Why don’t we just stay here?” She spoke timidly, her eyes almost childlike.

“Are you shitting m—” I glanced out the window at the sound of elevated screams, and in that moment I knew exactly what my father had been trying to warn me about. The man who’d fallen out the window, and we both presumed dead was now…biting people. We weren't high up— only on the second  floor and the picture was clear as day. Denise screamed, and we both froze at the possibility that he somehow might have heard us. His head snapped up listening to seemingly nothing, as he stood over the twitching body of a good samaritan. Shifting forward, he stepped into the light of one of the streetlights becoming fully illuminated, and I finally understood what he was covered in. 

His pajamas— were drenched in blood.

We both took a step back from the window, and I silently wished someone would shut off the stupid alarm. I was having trouble thinking.

“Pack a bag we’re leaving now,” I hurriedly changed out of my pajamas, pulling on my favorite pair of jeans and a t-shirt, before tugging on my cargo jacket. I grabbed my hiking boots, something I barely wore, and stepped into them on a whim. “We need to figure out how to get out of the city, and soon— I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”

My phone rung again, and I answered it with great relief when I realized that it was my father calling. 

“Dad,” I sighed into the phone, as I finished packing my bag. It was heavy but it had everything I would need— at least I hoped it did. 

“Kimberly, listen to me— I tried calling your mother and she’s not picking up the phone,” My blood ran cold at his words, and I felt my head swim at the possibilities. _No_ , my mother was always forgetting her phone in the oddest places, or leaving it on silence. Her not answering didn’t necessarily mean anything. “It’s late Annie, there probably sleeping. I was at work late, but I need you to listen to me closely. You need to head upstate and ride this out. The government has been keeping this quiet, but there has been several isolated incidents in Atlanta, as well as Los Angeles.”

“What are you saying, daddy?” I could hardly hear him over the blaring of the fire alarm in our room.

“I’m saying that if you see one of those _things_ … run in the opposite direction and do not let them touch you…” A thought hit me, and I cut him off.

“What’s upstate?” My mind began racing with possibilities. 

He paused on the other end of the line. “A lack of civilization, stay away from people. From what we’ve gathered this thing spreads by contact especially if you're bitten.”

“You knew about this?” It was quiet on the other line, but I didn't wait for his answer. I knew the answer— but how long had he, and then I whispered almost as an after thought. “Biters…”

“There’s a government issued bunker for family members, where were going to ride this out,” I heard loud noises on his end, and I made up my mind right then.

“I’m coming to you,” I continued speaking before he could interrupt me. “I’m safest with you dad, I can take Denise and we can drive down. We won’t stop unless we need gas, but it’s not safe here, or in some abandoned cave upstate.”

“Kim—”

“Please,” I stressed the word. “Give me the address, dad.” He rattled it off reluctantly, and I jotted it down.

“Steal a car,” He demanded. “I don’t care who’s it is but take it— and make sure it’s in good condition. Do not stop for anyone and come straight here. Remember what I said, do not let anyone touch you. If anything changes— I’ll call you. ” 

“I understand,” My heart was firmly in my throat, as I looked at Denise who had tears running freely down her cheeks, as she stared at me in horror. “I love you so much, daddy.” 

“I love you too, Annie.” The line went dead on the phone, and I shook my head almost as if I was trying to get my brain working again, it would really help if the—

**SILENCE.**

For some reason, the silence seemed to be louder then the fire alarm ever was. 

“Someone must have turned the fire alarm off,” Denise breathed a sigh of relief, and I nodded numbly my mind working a mile a minute. “I’ll get dressed and pack a bag, whatever this is I don’t want to stick around to see what happens next.” She turned away, but I could see that tears were flowing.

I crouched under my bed and pulled out the mini safe with my pepper spray and knife in it. It took me several attempts to get it open, and I finally pulled out the large knife my father had given me for my twenty-first birthday. 

“Woah,” Denise breathed, coming up behind me. I could relate to her reaction— the knife in question had an eight inch jagged blade, adorned with a leather handle, and silver accents. Just looking at it, I felt like it would cut me. “You’ve had that this whole time?” 

I shrugged. “Dad always wanted me to be safe,” I strapped the thigh holster onto my leg with my knife in it, motioning to the door and grabbing my bag. “Let’s go, and stay quiet. Don’t stop and talk to anyone.” 

We made our way out of our room, and into the jointly owned living room and kitchen, and cautiously I peered through the peep hole making sure that the coast was clear. 

“Wait,” Denise hissed, and I turned my head sharply. What part of quiet did she not understand? She motioned to the door at the other end of the suite— our suite mate’s room: Lisa. “I’m going to go see if she’s okay.”

Lisa, she was quiet and mostly stuck to herself. I’d only had a handful of conversations with her— but she had a car.

“Be careful,” I relented, she knocked on the door and it swung open. I found that a bit odd, Lisa was an extremely private person. I dropped my bag, and ran towards the door when I heard Denise’s scream. It was short, and gurgled— the scream locked in her throat. 

I’d always admired Lisa’s room, it was cute and trendy— with a tinge of bohemian throw in. But now… it was covered in blood from head to toe, it looked like someone had painted the walls with it. Denise had slipped in a large puddle of blood, and I reached for her. My hands getting thoroughly coated in what was presumably Lisa’s blood. 

“Is she dead, Kim?” She looked around frantically, and I had to wonder where exactly Lisa was.

“I don’t know,” I looked around the room in horror, and in a pure act of luck I spotted her car keys on the desk next to her purse. I grabbed them, knowing exactly where she parked her car. “But we have to go…” The words died in my throat as I felt the hair on my spine stand up, and cautiously I turned to find Lisa in the doorway— or at least what used to be Lisa.

She stalked towards us shakily, almost as if it were her first time walking on hew own legs. Something had obviously happened to her— the front of her robe was drenched in blood and part of her lower jaw was missing.

I fingered the handle of my knife hesitantly, as Denise took a step back in horror.

“Lisa,” I snapped my finger to get her attention, but she didn’t seem to notice that I’d called her name. “What happened to you?” My heart beat wildly as she stepped closer. Her mouth opened, almost as if she was trying to tell us something. But nothing ever came out… in a sudden jerky movement she sprung forward in our direction, and I met her halfway, putting a majority of my weight forward in my right foot. She went down, the floor slippery with her blood and I went with her. Her hands were everywhere, trying to grab at me, and I suddenly remembered what my dad had told me only minutes before.

_Don’t let them bite you, Kimberly._

In the next moment, I grabbed my knife and plunged it through her eye socket. Just like that— it barely even took two-seconds. I stood up shakily, gazing down at the corpse of my suite mate.

I killed her. I killed someone.

I stumbled to the bathroom across the hall, emptying my stomach into the toilet.

“Oh god,” I gazed at myself in the mirror, there was blood all over me. In my hair, on my face, my hands. I frantically scrubbed my hands as best as I could before slapping myself across the face— hard. “Get it together,” I spoke to my reflection in the mirror, “she was already dead.”

I grabbed my bag at the door, double checking that I had Lisa’s car keys; a stunned Denise following after me meekly. We hadn’t said anything since I’d killed Lisa, and I could hardly even look her in the face. 

The hallway was chaos, as confused students stood around in panic, some had figured it out— others hadn’t. But they gave us a wide birth when we ran passed them, all looking on in horrors as we made our way to the staircase.

We found Lisa’s car easy enough down the block, and I put my foot on the gas pedal— flying down the road before Denise had even closed her door. We drove for a while, both in silence— lost in are own heads. 

That is until I broke the silence.

“Shit,” I cursed. 

“What— what’s the matter,” Denise frantically looked behind us a couple of times, before making eye contact with me. She looked shifty, and her pupils were dilated in fear as they studied my face.

“I forgot my charger, in the room,” I cursed again, plowing through a red light. “Check to see if there’s a portable charger in the glove compartment.”

There weren’t many people on the streets, and driving through this part of the city… it was almost peaceful, like the things we’d seen back in the residence hall never happened. But I knew that was a lie— it was in the small things. Like the lack of police presence, and the tension in the air that led me to believe that that was far from the truth. 

“Found one,” She cried successfully holding it up for me to see, I connected my phone and punched in the address my father had given me. 

 ** _“_ In 16 hours and 36 minutes you will reach your destination.”** 

The robotic voice of the GPS, seemed to almost sadistically taunt us, and I shot Denise a watery smile. Her shirt was saturated in blood, and I glanced down at my own hands, stained in blood— Lisa’s blood. My knuckles gripped the wheel tightly. “We’ll be there soon enough, Denny,” I whispered, affectionally calling her by her nickname. “We’ve made this trip before remember? We’ll be home in no time— did you call your parents?” Denise’s parents lived only several hours away from our house— by pure coincidence— and it wouldn’t be too hard to drop Denise off once I’d met up with my family.

_My family…_

I had to, no— I _needed_ to see them.

I had to tell my mother that I was sorry, that I hadn’t meant any of it. 

With a deep breath, I made a right turn getting on the exit for I-78.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my username... sorry for any confusion this may cause. Also make sure to re-bookmark, because they will NOT work.


	17. M is for Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So it's been awhile, and I have to apologize. I'm back in New York, and anxiously awaiting my move-in date this weekend. With that being said, it might be awhile until a new chapter is posted, but hang in there. Life's been hectic!

Upon waking, there’s a period— a void if you will, where you're not sure who or what you are. A blissful ignorance that lingers only for a moment, before all your senses and memories come rushing back to you at once.

It is the only leisure that I am afforded these days.

“What are you thinking about?” Dwight is propped up beside me, smoking a cigarette as he gazes at me with understanding, yet tired eyes. 

I don’t answer straight away as memories play before me— my eyes open yet unseeing— before there gone, and I’m able to breathe again.

I shrug sitting up, only to realize that I’m still lying in the bed of Dwight’s truck…fully nude. 

_Hell, I’ve fucked up._

I can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes my mouth, and Dwight smiles beside me almost as if he can read my thoughts. It’s early, the sun just beginning to rise, and I stretch languidly before searching for my top. While we dress, easy dialogue flows between the two of us. Nothings changed, and I know only from a moments glance that we’ll never speak about last night— at least out loud. 

We share a breakfast of powdered eggs and beans, made on Dwight’s portable grill— he really does have everything, and I have a laugh when he scrunches up his nose at the thought of giving up bacon. To him it’s preposterous. 

Finally, we have everything packed into the back of his truck, and head out onto one of the main roads towards a small town twenty miles up the road. 

“We'll probably be there in about forty minutes, or something— fuck if I know,” Dwight distractedly fiddles with the radio, trying to insert a cassette tape. “You enjoying the air, Fido?”

The entirety of my upper body is hanging out the window, and I _am_ — the breeze is cool as it whips against my face, and I tilt my head up to catch the sparse rays of sun. There’s something about this moment— it almost feels… fragile. Like if I were to say the wrong thing, it would shatter, and I’d be left with the broken shards.

So in response to Dwight’s question, I shrug and continue to gaze out the window. Blissfully ignoring, Dwight’s questioning gazes.

**Welcome to _Rose Hill_**

The quaint wooden sign is adorned with roses, and I think for a second that the hand painted sign was once pretty, but is now covered in moss and looks scorched from a past fire.

The observation makes me shudder, and I watch the sprawling fields turn into houses, and then abandoned stores. Until finally we pull over in front of a quaint brick building, with a school bus and children painted on the side.

I gasp in recognition, and for the first time in a while Dwight smiles at me before getting out the truck, and coming around to open my door. I’m still stunned, and step out onto shaky legs.

Where at a teacher’s supply store, it’s small and the windows are boarded, but I’m eager nonetheless. Why else would Dwight have bought me here? 

He answers my questioning gaze. 

“I found this on one of my um— trips a couple months ago, and figured it would come in handy,” He’s clearly nervous, rubbing the back of my neck and I can’t help but lean forward to peck his cheek. “Did I do good?” He jokes, but there’s something in the way he says it that makes my heart warm. He’s my friend I realize— the realization bubbles up to the forefront of my mind.

 _Friends don’t sleep with each other, you trollop!_ My conscience practically hollers at me, she’s ironically— or not so ironically, dressed in a nun costume. She’s also waving the cross, and I realize it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten her input. 

Well, that explains the past twenty-four hours…

 _You’ve been referring to me as your subconscious our whole lives, and I’ve let it slide— but I should inform you that I’m actually your conscience! You know the thing that tells you what’s wrong from right, what you're SUPPOSED to listen to._ She continued on, waving her hands frantically in the air.

Huh, the more you know.

But the last time I checked, consciences weren't dressing up in costumes, and over-imagined to the point of being able to carry on their own conversations.

Yep, pretty sure I cracked a while ago.

I hug Dwight anyway, and assist him with unlocking the padlock on the front door, which Dwight explained were there for precautions—in case there ever was a need for these items in the future. 

“So why didn’t you ever bring these back for the kid at the Sanctuary?” I’m wracking my brain for the possible answer, while he pulls away the last of the heavy chains and opens the door. I wave the dust out of face, and step in cautiously assessing the lack of threat.

“There isn't anything particularly useful, markers are long gone— I’m not really sure what to make of this,” He waved his hand around before shoving it in his front pocket. “Plus I hate Candice— if you haven’t noticed she’s fucking _annoying_. I wouldn’t help her if there was a gun to my back.” We both let out a laugh, and I eagerly begin to search the room.

My breath is taken away by the amount of teacher’s material in the small building, wall to floor shelves are filled with colored chalk, mini whiteboards/chalkboards, and other classroom essentials.

_Paper, they even have paper!_

“Oh, Dwight! Look,” I squeal, when I spot some paint cans farther back in the room.

“What is it?”

“Its paint, and when the surface dries it becomes a chalkboard.” My mind is absolutely spinning with the possibilities of how I can decorate the sparse walls of the room the kids and I have been crammed in. 

Suddenly I’ve got a brilliant idea.

“Dwight, I’m gonna need a hand.”

* * *

“Happy?” Dwight questions. Were back in the truck and it’s filled to the brim, I also have the biggest smile on my face since— well, a very long time.

“So happy,” I gush, and it takes all my will power to not rub my hands together like a villain in an old cartoon.

He hums in response, and I sing off key to what I now know is Eric Clapton. “So what’s the deal anyway, were you a teacher once. You look sorta young for that type of thing?”

I don’t answer right away, instead I study the way the road is being ravenously swallowed by the underbelly of the truck. It won’t be long until were back at the Sanctuary— I’m desperately trying to ignore the way my body throbs in anticipation. 

I disgust myself— truly I do.

“I went to school to be a teacher,” I cleared my throat, trying to clear the knot that always formed when I talked about my past. “But then I switched my major, law and politics.” I waved my hand around airily, the one that wasn’t sticking out the passenger side window. “You know the boring stuff.”

“Huh, you don’t seem like the ‘law and politics’ type.” He took both hands off the wheel to enunciate his point. “You look like you enjoy what you do with the kids, I’ve never seen you so happy.”

I shrugged. “I never said I didn’t like teaching,” I struggled to find the words. “It just wasn’t for me, I guess. What did you major in?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I didn’t go to college,” He shot me a look. “Don’t act too surprised, the college track wasn't for me. I stayed on the family farm— my brother and I. We helped my mother, did the heavy labor.” His sigh was wistful, and I could tell— I simply knew, what he was experiencing when he talked about his family. 

“I miss my brothers, too,” I couldn't stop the image of the boy in white drapes from flashing across my mind. “What was his name?”

“Thomas.”

“I have three. Bradley and Chase— the twins— are the oldest. The goofballs,” I chuckled, but it felt bittersweet. “Charlie’s the baby of the family, and my favorite, he wa— is my best friend.”

Dwight’s quiet and I can tell he’s looking at me, but I continue to gaze out the window. Were close, I can feel it. What’s waiting for me when I get back? The repercussions of bitch slapping Candice were surely— extreme. Maybe I’d get the iron.

Dwight and I could match.

“You still think there alive?” He finally questions me.

“ _That_ is a loaded question in itself. Maybe,” I trail off, as I picture Charlie _here,_ in Virginia. I took a deep breath in, to encompass the weight that had settled heavily on my chest. “I mean I didn’t walk across five states on foot, if I didn’t think they could still be out there. I think they might not.” I finally bit out. “But the unknown has always bothered me.”

“The unknown?”

“Yeah, its like this.” I shifted, so that I was now facing him in the car. “You know that moment when your at the top of the rollercoaster, and your about to take that first big drop. Coasters have always scared me, but never _once_ have I closed my eyes. Because,” I mulled it over. “I have to _know_ what comes next, whether its pain or happiness. Either! I can’t be blindsided by it… does that make sense?”

“It does,” I gazed at him dubiously. “No! It does, that’s very brave. Some people would rather shut there eyes and go through the motions until its over. Even though your family may not be alive, you need to know what happened to them. That will always follows you. Otherwise, there’s a gaping ‘what if’ that will fuck with you until you die.” His knuckles tightened on the wheel, but he seemed thoughtful. “That’s why you linger, and its taken you so long to go home, a part of you knows the ‘what,’ you're just not ready for the _how_.” He struggled to get the words out, and when he finished I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable.

I stared at him in awe, before leaning over to peck his cheek.

“Dwight, I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He knew, somehow he just did.

I watched a blush slowly color the apple of his cheeks, and he glared at me— only there was no malice whatsoever, if anything slight embarrassment. “Get off me woman. You can’t keep throwing yourself at me like this… it’s embarrassing. And I’m _not_ making it a habit to talk about my feelings again.”

“Got it,” I smirked.

* * *

“Dwight, can I speak to you for a moment?” The blonde woman that Dwight and I ran past only yesterday, pops up seemingly out of nowhere, as we begin to unload the truck. My brain makes the connection instantly— this is Sherry.

Well, _shit._

She’s twisting her hands nervously, and glancing between the two of us. But in the end she only has eyes for Dwight. Her body relaxes considerably, when they lock gaze. I grab a couple of bags, but I’m forced to leave the bigger things behind in my haste to give them privacy.

Dwight who looks dazed, has the right mine to call after me: “I’ll bring the bigger stuff over to the classroom later.” 

Right, okay.

At the same time, Sherry throws over her shoulder: “Negan’s expecting you for dinner.”

 _That_ makes me stumble.

Fuck, today’s Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bookmark Bookmark Bookmark! I promise I'll be back soon!


	18. N is for No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Another stress filled day! :)

No! There’s no fucking way that I’m having dinner with Negan.   
****

The lukewarm water cascades down my back, as I consider the many ways around this obstacle.

Its like I can’t catch a break. 

Why, oh why didn’t I listen to my subc— _conscience_. I internally corrected myself. 

At the moment my mind is blearily empty—void of the usual harping voice—that belongs to my own Jiminy Cricket.

In my Negan induced frenzy, I’d dumped my haul in my room, before going to the only place I knew I could think: the showers. Specifically, the one’s on the top floor of the factory that I’d stumbled across only a couple of days ago with Bronson. Their were only two in this small bathroom, and obviously overlooked— by judgement of the copious amounts of spider webs collecting in the corners, and the distance it took to get here. 

Here, I could think. 

I suppose I do need to see Negan eventually. Maps were very hard to come by these days, and if I were being completely honest— there’s a certain amount of sentiment tied to that one in particular. The one he’s been holding captive in his office. 

I glide the generic bar of soap across my arms, lost in thought, and try to make sense of the past several hours.

I bitch slapped Candice.

_Ok, good._

I did the devil’s dance with Dwight, in an attempt to get over my fixation of Negan.

 _All right, not your finest moment Kim… but you did get several orgasms out of that deal_.

Tonight I have to have dinner with Negan.

_The man’s fucking insane, but I think I’m kind of into that._

I turned the shower faucet off, and began to towel myself dry. 

 ** _CRRREAAAKKK_**  

The creaking of the old metal door to the small bathroom, instinctively makes me freeze, and with bated breath— I listen.

“ _Damn_ , Candice,” I cover my mouth, in an attempt to hold in the squeak that is bound to tumble from my lips in surprise. My eyes are _surely_ the size of saucers. “always up my ass. Can’t get a moments peace…” 

I listened to his grumblings, with a sense of growing unease. What should I do? Make my presence known, or sneak out when he’s otherwise occupied? 

I have a 50/50 chance of being caught.

_Oh, there is a God…_

I listened to Negan presumably strip, before turning on the shower stall directly next to mine. I’d stuffed my things in one of the abandoned lockers, and with any luck I could just wait this awkward situation out. 

 _Or you could just take a peek…_ A small voice whispered, at the forefront of my mind.

 _Fuck Kimberly not the time,_ I admonished myself. 

I listened as Negan moved around, the water dripping from the ringlets in my hair. And even though I was beginning to chill, I stayed still in fear.

Fear— that Negan might catch me.

Fear— that I might throw caution to the wind, and join him.

My mother was right, I have no self-preservation.

_Wait, what is that—?_

I listened intently—probably too intently— as a faint slapping sound began to fill the room, shortly followed by a throaty moan over in the next cubicle.

_Oh. Shit._

Negan was masturbating. 

Well, of course.

 _I wonder what he’s thinking about?_ The thought bubbles up to the surface of my mind, before I can pop it.

Almost as if he’s answering my unspoken question, Negan becomes more vocal in the shower stall next to mine— and I listen shamelessly. The time has passed for me to make my presence known, anything now, and I’m sure whatever happens will be short of explosive.

_Yeah, but what kind of explosion?_

“Kimberly,” I freeze, almost as if someone has thrown a bucket of ice water down my back. The steady sound of slapping begins to fill the room, and I listen as Negan gasps my name while he pleasures himself. “That’s it sweetheart, take it just like that.”

A little bit of spit begins to dribble from my mouth, which is hanging open in disbelief. If I believed in fate— I would have taken this as a sign, and joined him in his stall. 

But I don’t, I stopped believing in that a long time ago. 

So instead, I wait for him to finish. Ignoring the heavy feeling in my lower belly, and slip out when he’s gone.

* * *

I knock on the door hesitantly. 

If my skin was light enough, I’m sure that it would be flaming red. 

There’s some shuffling on the other side of the door, before he calls for me to come inside.

 _Jackass can’t even come to the door after yanking it to me._ I sniff, before entering the room.

Negan’s “office” is large and what must have been a conference room for visiting higher executives. The floor is carpeted in the generic stuff that you’d usually see in offices, the pattern is distressing and tacky, but covered in a plethora of carpets to take away the loudness. The farthest wall, which is usually covered in heavy curtains— are pushed back, giving me a view of the main floor of the factory. The entirety of the wall consists of windows— ending waist high. 

He’s sitting in a makeshift seating area, a little ways off from his usual position at his desk. 

The area consists of two love seats pushed against the side wall, with a glass coffee table situated between the two. There’s another window, and as I take a seat on the opposite chair, I glance down at the courtyard, idly wondering what the kids are up to. The window’s slightly open, and I allow the cool breeze to caress my warm skin, as I tell myself to relax.

 _God, I’m a terrible teacher._ A pang of guilt hits me when I realize that I completely abandoned them on Friday.

Across from me, Negan is the picture of relaxation—

 _But then again why wouldn't he be? He just jerked off to images of you in God knows what kind of positions._ I internalize.

His hair is still slightly damp from his shower, and he’s in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. His feet, which are wearing his signature boots, are crossed at the ankle. 

I gulp.

This can surely go either way, and I’m really not prepared to find out. He’s gazing at me, his dark eyes assessing every minuscule move I make— just like the first time in his RV. He’s waiting for me to make the first move, it's his way of assessing the field. I take the bait.

“That’s nice, I’ve never noticed that er— addition before,” I gesture to the windows, behind his desk. “Lovely weather were having…” I babble on nervously, almost like if I stop speaking he’ll be able to read my mind, and see where I’ve been the last twenty-four hours. 

“Sherry’s no longer my wife,” I open my mouth to say something, but he beats me to the punch. “I’m not an asshole, doll. That was probably the first thing I told you. My wives are free to go if they please. I like to think… it’s a redeeming quality, one of few.” He looks at me expectantly, and I shrug. 

If it’s a compliment he wants— it's not coming from me.

 _Fine_. He sounds like an angel when he’s cumming. You won’t catch me saying that out loud, though.

“She’s going to need a job,” He taps his finger rhythmically on the back of the sofa while he gazes at me.

“Are these leather?” I shift uncomfortably on the love seat.

“That’s what you’re considering at the moment?” His perfect composure cracks, and suddenly were both smiling at each other. I don’t even realize it at first.

“And what? You want her to be the person I train?” It’s the only thing I can come up with at the moment.

“No,” He shifts so he’s leaning over the glass coffee table. “I want you to take her place.” The sarcasm is heavily laced.

“Jackass,” He grins at me, before leaning back.

“She’ll be there bright and early on Monday.” I nod, but I can’t help but feel the bitter sting of sadness. Sad— because I have to leave soon, and a part of me wants to stay.

“Sherry’s always been on the fence,” He rubs the stubble on his face, considering whatever he’s thinking about. “ _But_ I think seeing Dwight run off with a particular _someone_ on Friday, really sealed the deal.”

Fuck, here it comes. 

He looks at me expectantly. 

“Candice is a bitch, and for that reason I cannot be held accountable for my actions when I’m around her.” I finally say.

He nodded his head, mulling over my shitty excuse. 

“You know doll—”

“Jackass, my name is Kimberly-Anne,” I crossed my arms. “use it. Hell, you can call me _anything._ Just not that,” I barely managed to conceal my shiver, he probably calls Candice that also. 

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “So you can call me ‘jackass,’ and I get to call you anything. _”_

“Yes, Negan,” I snort. “Of course… within limitations.”

“Of course, that goes without saying.”

This wasn’t so bad, obviously Negan wasn’t planning to throw me out the window anytime soon. 

He seemed casual— too casual.

“Candice is a pain in my ass.”

 _So I’ve heard._ I mumbled internally.

“So why do you keep her around?” The question came out more biting, then I mean for it too.

He doesn't answer me right away, and I look up from my gaze, that has since been directed at my lap. If there’s a bus hurdling towards me, I’d like to know when to brace for impact.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

“About what?” The words were barely a whisper.

“Let’s just say: Quality over quantity.”

A sharp knock at the door interrupts our conversation, and while Negan calls for the person to come in— I take the moment to recuperate. Having a conversation with him, was like maneuvering around landmines. 

Presumably, three people from the kitchen staff, come into the room with covered silver trays. I try very hard not to roll my eyes at the theatrics, as they place mine in front of me. They also placed a pitcher filled with ice tea on the table, as well as two glasses filled with ice.

“That’s all,” Negan waves them off, and they exit the room as hastily as they had entered. 

“Wow,” I waved at the spread before us. “So this is how the other side eats.”

Negan says nothing, but smirks at me, as he begins to move the lids off the trays. Today’s dinner consists of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and a medley of vegetables. 

_Typical… but at least I could eat the veggies._

Negan removed the lid off the tray in front of me, and I gasped in disbelief. 

“No,” I sunk down to the floor in front of the table, and poked my food in disbelief. “Where did you find these?” I gaze up at Negan who is chuckling at my excitement, and I begin to bounce on my heels in giddiness. 

“It sure took my men awhile,” He pauses, as he sinks to his knees on his side of the table. “But the cause was worth it. Even post-apocalypse people still won’t eat that vegan shit.”

“They're chik'n nuggets,” I plucked one off my plate, and dipped it in my mashed potatoes. They're a little freezer burnt, but still taste delicious. It also doesn't escape my attention that I have a bigger portion of vegetables. I pause, before I can begin to inhale more of my food. “Thank you, this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.” I reached out to squeeze his hand.

“Guess I’m not that much of a jackass,” He teases.

We dig into our food, and a casual conversation begins to flow between us. 

“You know Annie, I don’t usually sit on the floor,” Negan bit into a roll thoughtfully. “But I find myself doing a lot of things, that I usually wouldn’t do when I’m with you.”

“Well, that’s probably because I don’t bend to your will,” I plopped some potatoes into my mouth, before swallowing, and pointing my fork at him. “You called me Annie.”

“You said I could call you anything,” 

“No, its fine,” I shrugged. “My family used to call me that, it’s just been awhile.”

He nods in consideration. “Why such a long name?”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the fond memory, of the past several thousand times, that I’d answered this question. “All right, are you ready for this?” I paused to make sure he was listening. “My mother loved reading— it’s one of the few things I got from her. She always thought long names were more romantic, and were fit for people who’s lives would be an adventure.” I rolled my eyes, _adventure_ indeed. “Kimberly, which comes from Rudyard Kipling’s novel _Kim.”_

“How fitting,” He rolled his eyes, and I hushed him in response.

“Wait,” I assessed him briefly, he’d finished his plate and now sat back reclined against his love seat with his feet spread out before him. He didn’t look like the type to know Kipling. “You know Kipling?”

He shrugged. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” 

“Well, anyway. Anne for—”

“ _Anne of Green Gables_ ,” He guessed. 

“Exactly,” I beamed, it was too easy to fall into this pattern with him. But I couldn't deny— I liked this. “And Victoria comes from my mother’s favorite book: _Frankenstein_.” He guffawed. “I know, of all the things. Victor. Victoria. She added a feminine twist.”

We lapsed into a momentary silence, both of us considering… things. We’d finished dinner, and I was unsure of what to do next. Should I go? I really was having a good time. Negan seemed to read my mind.

“Stay.”

“Okay.” 

We moved over to a soft couch, on the other side of his office where his bookshelves dominated the walls. I pushed a few books out of the way before plopping down in front of it, while Negan reclined fully on the sofa, stuffing a couple throw pillows under his head. I made myself busy shifting through his books, before plucking one from the pile that looked interesting. 

“You have so many books,” I mused. It was more of an observation rather then a statement, but he took it as one. 

“We read to know we’re not alone,” I turned to face him, but his gaze was directed at the ceiling. “William Nicholson, said that.”

Huh, just another side to Negan, I don’t think I’ll ever understand. 

_But you can try, to understand him…_

Maybe my inner musings were right, what was the harm of diving in a little deeper? I pondered this as we both began to read our books, the silence only pierced by the occasional question from either of us. He shot questions at me about the kids, and how the classroom was going. And I asked him where he’d traveled, and the friends that he’d had. The more I spoke to him the more human he became.

“You’re not so bad, jackass.” I nudged his foot to let him know I was kidding. He shifted on his side, so he was facing me and I gazed at him shyly. “So why the hard ass routine?” I was genuinely curious.

“Noisy little thing aren't you, Kimberly-Anne?” He leaned forward, and I had the gall to look at least a little sheepish. “How about I tell you everything you want to know… next week. I want to take you somewhere.”

Next week? Could I stay a little longer? The conversation that I’d had with Dwight flashed across the forefront of my mind. 

After a moment’s hesitation I spoke. 

“All right, but on one condition.” He looked at me expectantly. “We do dinner my way tomorrow.”

“Annie, you’ve got yourself a deal.”


	19. O is for Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a couple of things I need to address, cause I'm human and we all make mistakes.  
> 1\. The apocalypse happened somewhat recently. Roughly a year, I know that's short but it had to fit the "looking for my family" theme I'm going with.  
> 2\. Kimberly knew her family was dead, but she just wasn't able to come to terms with it. That's why she's back and forth until this chapter.  
> 3\. Kimberly was unaware of how much time had passed (something I'll address in a later chapter).  
> 4\. If you haven't guess by now the story ends with the alphabet. So say a prayer cause it's gonna get bumpy.

The next morning I awoke before the birds had begun to sing. 

Begrudgingly, when it became clear that I would not be able to go back to sleep, I changed into a pair of leggings, and a baggy t-shirt. Unsure where I was going, I laced my hiking boots, and grabbed an old sweatshirt.

When I stepped out the front door of the factory, I noted that there was only a few people milling around the courtyard: Negan’s men by the gate, and a few people off to the side working in the gardens. Deciding to take the road less traveled, I turned left, and began to walk along the permitter of the fence— wary of the biters.

I always loved this time of the day. The early morning when the sky is grey, and the Earth is so quiet and peaceful. 

This was comforting, all I was missing was Charlie by my side. He always loved to walk with me— whether it was on the beach or a park.  

I traveled around the perimeter of The Sanctuary, noting that there was absolutely no security in the back, as well as any signs of civilization.

Huh, duly noted.

I came along the right side of The Sanctuary, passing by my tree, and consequentially the gardens. I surveyed the rows of crops, hoping to get a glimpse of Simon— and there he was! Hunched over plucking carrots from the ground, and a set of red earphones in his ears— he was oblivious to the world. 

I pounced.

“Shit,” He cursed before yanking the headphones out of his ears. He whipped around, and I couldn’t help but bend over in laughter. “Kim! I almost had a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” I fully righted myself, and attempted to hug him. “I haven't seen you since…”

He nodded sagely. “I got all the kids to their parentals, and was even able to calm down Charlotte and Liam’s father. He’s good friends with Negan,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how that went.” He hesitated, before finally asking. “Are you okay?”

Am I? I’m not so sure.

But I tell him that I am anyway— there are so many things heavy on my chest, but I’ve never felt lighter. 

“I’m going to decorate the classroom today,” I finally say after a beat of silence. “While Dwight and I were out, we found a lot of supplies.” I motion to his headphones. “What are you listening to?”

“Oh, this?” He yanks an iPhone out of his flannel shirt pocket. “My phone. What else Kim?”

While I’m pretty sure the ground has not moved at all, it feels like it has to me. 

ALOT.

He sees my facial expression, and shoots me a look of sympathy. “It’s the last bit of the past that I have. I like to look at the pictures. Hell, I still click on Facebook.”

“But how? How does it still have a charge?” I have to work hard to make my mouth form the words that are racing around in my head.

“I have a charg—”

“Can I borrow it?”

* * *

 

It takes me only a moment to find my old iPhone, it’s enclosed in a glittery pink case and looks so out of place in my dingy room.

Simon is nice enough to lend me one of his spare chargers. 

He has five of them. 

“A backup for my backup,” He says. 

I could kiss him, but I’m sure that Bronson won’t appreciate that. My mind is dizzy with the fact that I’ll be able to listen to music on my phone. 

Hear my father’s old voice messages… it’s not much but I’ll take it. 

By pure luck, there’s an old outlet behind my desk in the classroom. I plug it in, and wait anxiously for the phone to show a hint of life. I knew from discussions with Bronson, that the factory ran off a series of hand crank generators that allowed for the factory to have electricity. But, and he stressed it a lot— to preserve it, electricity was cut sporadically as means of conservation, and unavailable entirely in parts of the factory.

 _Meaning_ I shouldn’t get too tech friendly, it was best to leave the past where it was. 

My phone was always glitchy, getting messages several hours after texts had been originally sent and always dropping calls. That’s why when my phone doesn’t turn on immediately, I’m not worried— I swear.

“I’ll give it a few,” I say, barely above a whisper, and finally tear my eyes away from the black  screen to go, and retrieve the items that I’d gotten with Dwight the previous day. He’s put the bigger things in the classroom like he promised, and even though there’s a growing heavy feeling in my stomach, I smile. 

The kids will be so pleased.

We’d taken several cube shelves from the teachers supply store, which would be perfect cubbies  to store the kids items in. As well as a couple of waist high book shelves, that would go underneath the window, and hold the textbooks. My smile only widens when I open the garbage bags that are filled with textbooks, school posters, and a crap-ton of other material.

_Yes, this is going to be so good._

First on the agenda: painting. I’d never liked the bare walls that made the room look like a prison, and I was especially giddy to get started. I quickly left to retrieve the paint cans from my room, and a step ladder from the broom closet down the hall.

We’d found almost a can of every color, and a multitude of green. 

Despite this— my options were limited.

I wasn’t _terribly_  creative, but Charlie was. We’d sit on the coach every Saturday morning and watch Bob Ross babble on about depth  and shading.

A particular episode about how to paint trees had stuck with me (it was actually pretty easy), so my plan was to create a kind of forest scene and add characters from the books I’d been reading with the kids. I’d leave one wall, the one that shared the entrance to the room, empty, and paint it with the chalkboard paint so the kids could have a giant chalkboard.

_The kids are gonna go nuts._

And with that thought, I got to work.

* * *

 

When I began working the sun had barely risen, the sky a gray muted color. Now, as I gazed up from my work I was surprised to see the sun had fully risen, and was streaming in through the window. I stood up fully from my crouched position, cracking my back, before walking to the window— my intentions to air the room.

The paint fumes were making me dizzy.

A knock at the door startled me, and I called for whoever it was to come in. To my utter surprise, Negan stepped through the door looking slightly cautious. In his hands he held a pile of children’s books, and before I could help it— I bounded over.

He just had that effect on me.

“Negan, you shouldn’t have,” I teased, helping to relieve him of the items in his hand. 

He smirked, growing fully confident in his element. This he was used to— banter. I let him have the upper hand for now. “I knew you’d be here. I heard you and Dwight found some stuff on your _run_.”

_Huh, is that what were calling it now?_

I nodded anyway, and began to set the books on the wooden benches. While I was looking through the books Negan had brought, he took the time to study the room. He gestured to the walls. “You did this all by yourself?”

I came up beside him to survey my work. I wasn’t an artist, but I was a perfectionist— a skill that allowed me to be ridiculously good at a multitude of things.

Painting just so happened to be one of them. 

The theme I had gone for in the classroom was basic, nothing Picasso worthy. I’d painted the wall that held the windows, to look like a field of wild flowers, complete with a sky and trees that ran along the entirety of the classroom— with the exception of two walls. 

I watched Negan’s eyes as he took in the back wall, which was where I’d planned to put the children’s cubbies.  

“It’s _The Little Prince_ , it was my brother and I’s favorite book,” I spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever he was thinking about.

The back wall, I had taken my time with. Painting several hills, and what I hoped depicted a sunset. I’d transitioned the colors until I’d gotten to the ceiling where I’d painted it darker, adding specs of white to symbolize far away stars. 

It was the closer stars, that were what had caught his eyes. I’d painted them on strings, just like from the book. It’d always been the thing that I’d found most beautiful, and intriguing. 

His silence made me a little nervous, and I suddenly realized maybe he didn’t like it— and I hadn't gotten his permission. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask. If you don’t like it…” He interrupted me before I could continue.

“Kimberly,” He turned to face me. “You would have— no, you _are_ an amazing teacher.” 

My chest constricted, before I could finally speak. “Thank you, jackass.” We both chuckled at his nickname, and suddenly the mood was lightened. “I could use some help, you know.”  Motioning to the final wall, the largest, which was blank. I still needed to paint this one, I frowned in concentration.

“Alright.”

I hadn’t expected him to agree. “Are you sure? Don’t you have something to be?”

“Annie,” He nudged my shoulder. “I’m the boss, I can _be_ wherever I want. Besides, the boys are on a run to a new settlement,” He rolled up his sleeves, and began to open the paint can. “Figured they can do it by themselves.” He grinned up at me from his crouched position. 

I crouched down to help him.

“What’s the name of the group?” I asked out of pure curiosity.

“They call themselves, the children of Lazarus,” He spoke casually, as he moved over to the wall. “They travel, from what we’ve gathered, but they seem to have taken up residence less then a mile away. Some of the other camps have brought it to our attention.”

I knew from discussions with Bronson, that the Sanctuary was the center of a huge trading network with the other surrounding camps. It hadn’t always been this way, Bronson had told me. Negan’s hard ass routine hadn’t worked too well, and had resulted in a massive revolt— with a shit ton of casualties. This was both sides trying to live in harmony. 

“The children of Lazarus,” I trailed off. 

_Why does that sound so familiar?_

I asked him such, as I began to fold origami stars out of yellow construction paper. 

_These are going to look so cute hung from the ceiling._

“I’m not sure. From what we’ve gathered, they’re not much. Just of bunch of nuts in white cloaks running around.”

I tensed up.

_Could it be?_

“Charlie,” I choked out the word, and dropped what was in my hand. 

Had it really been him, or was it a boy that looked like him? 

One thing was clear, I needed to find out.

“What is that sound?” Negan paused, stopping to listen to whatever he was talking about. 

Huh? I listened as a faint buzzing sound began to fill the room every couple of seconds.

I shot up faster then I ever had before. In my intentions to finish the classroom today, I’d completely forgotten about my phone. Why was it ringing? I reached behind the desk to pull it out, and almost threw up at the notification on the screen. 

**You have 5 new voicemails**

No, it couldn't be. I felt Negan come out behind me, as I fumbled to remember the code, getting it wrong the first two times before the screen unlocked. Negan stood stoic beside me, like always, studying every movement before he made his.  
****

“Simon gave me his charger so I could listen to music, but there’s a new voicemail and I don’t know what to think. My phone’s always been a little slow,” I gasped, and Negan reached out to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall. “I’m probably overreacting.” But even as I said that, I knew something was different.

I pressed play, lifting the phone up so that we could both listen. An air of heavy tension hung between us.

 _Annie, its daddy!_ I sucked in a sharp gasp, there was so much commotion in the background, I could barely here what he was saying. _The base has been overrun by these— fuck! Move it Chase, faster! Grab Charlie!_

**_Beep!_ **

“Oh no,” I began to sway, but Negan caught me as the next voicemail began to play.

 _Kimberly, you need to listen to me! Stay where you are, we’re coming to get you. We need your location. Call me when you can sweetheart. I love you. Please call me back!_ My father’s voice was rough with tears, and my heart clenched. _Brady and mom— they didn’t make it out of Florida. I’m so sor—!_

**_Beep!_ **

_“_ I don’t want to listen to the next one,” Negan held onto me, and together we sunk to the floor.   
****

_Kimberly? I’m not sure how to use this thing._ There was some fumbling on the other side of the line, and I paused as the voice was very unfamiliar to me. A moment of consideration, and then I knew. Denise’s mother! _Kimberly we’re very worried, some of the neighbors have gotten sick. You girls need to stay safe, and tell Denise to call m— Are you girls still on the highway? Just… get here soon._

**_Beep!_ **

_Charlie’s gone!_ My head shot up in confusion. This was Chase talking, he sounded older—more serious then I’d ever heard him before. _We stopped at a gas station, and dad went inside for a second. I swear Annie he was right next to me, and then he just—!_ A shuddering sob. _Dad was distracted and got bit— I don’t know what to do… I’m so alone._  
****

**_Beep!_ **

_Kimberly-Anne Victoria Harris._ A pause _. Do you remember that one time we got off the bus in middle school, and Derek Sanders wouldn't stop teasing me? You punched him, and got blood on your dress. Mom yelled at you for a week. I know mom gave you a hard time but she loved you, she wanted you to know that._ Another pause _. That she’s not mad, and she loves you, and knows you didn’t mean it. I know that must be eating you alive._ Chase drew in a shuddering breath. _I don’t even know why I’m saying this, you're probably dead too. Brady, Charlie, mom— you’re all gone!_ His voice rose, and I could hear the absolute devastation in his voice. _Dad’s dead… I killed him Annie. I can’t do this. I can’t be here without any of you, I have dad’s gun… I’ll see you soon, sister._  
****

**_BANG!_ **

“Chase,” The mangled protest flew from my lips. Almost as if I could stop him— but he was already gone. 

 **Beep!** **You have no new messages.** The robotic voice said, almost mockingly.  
****

“I love you, brother.” I sobbed in disbelief.  
****

My sweet, joking, and light-hearted brother… had killed himself.

I checked the date on the phone, and the time of the last voicemail. 

Nine months ago…

They died nine months ago… and I’d been wasting my time walking halfway across the country for people who weren't even alive anymore. At least… I had been. My mind began to race with the amount of settlements I’d stopped at, and the people I’d met— all the way up to Negan.

When had I started veering off track? 

Shortly after the car had been stolen, and Denise had chosen to stay with The New Frontier. 

Roughly nine months ago…

It made so much sense. 

A part of me had just… _known_.

What was I doing? Where was I supposed to go now? A part of me had known— embraced the fact, but now— I really _knew._  
****

My family had died a long time ago.

I was alone.

Reliving the last moment I’d spent with my mother made me cry harder. What had I done? She forgave me— Chase had said as much, but I just wish I had gotten the chance to say it myself.

I cried for what felt like hours, and Negan rocked me softly in his arms, cradling me like a child. The pain was unbearable, and I held onto him like a life vest— for I feared that I would be swept away in a tidal wave of emotions.

“Annie,” I flinched at the name, but Negan held me tighter. His voice reached out to me, and with no other options I took it. I surfaced from my grief, barely a moment, but he was there. Concern etched into every feature, his eyes for once— vulnerably open. And that’s where I saw myself too… in the middle of _this_ with Negan, and vulnerable. “Stay here. With the kids and the classroom,” He swallowed nervously. “With m—”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys were almost at 2000 hits! I love you all so much, and I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I have. *TEARS*


	20. P is for Pain (pt.1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how Kimberly was is a program, for an accelerated Master's degree..? Well, I might have taken that detail from my life. :) With that in mind, please be patient with chapter uploads. I'm not abandoning this story, school and work is just super stressful.  
> Also... 2 CHAPTERS THIS WEEK! WOOT!

My heart has undeniably been torn to shreds in the past few minutes.

“What happened between you and your mother?” Negan’s voice is low as he gazes at me cautiously, almost like I might break at any given moment. 

I think I will. 

Chase’s voicemail plays on repeat in my head, while his question hangs heavy in the air.

I knew this was coming, but the real question is… could I do this? Tell Negan everything when I could barely admit it to myself.

“It was so ugly.” I finally said. My voice is raspy, and my throat is raw from the amount of crying I’ve done. The tears begin to fall, as I prepare to admit the one moment that’s been haunting me for the past several months. “My mother, she was a teacher.” Negan encourages me to go on. He knows this much. “I love that women, but she had my whole life planned out for me before I was even born. She had expectations, which extended to my career…” I said, at a lost.

“Go on,” He encouraged.

“I switched my major halfway through my second year. I lied to her for almost a year, every time she called, I’d make up some stupid excuse. But one day she found out. The school had called about honor society details,” I huffed, still pissed that the school hadn’t called me instead. “To this day, I wasn’t sure what I’d tell her when I graduated. She wasn’t angry or anything, just disappointed. I could hear it in her voice. And for some reason, that made me _so_ angry,” I drew in a shuddering breath, before looking up from my lap into Negan’s eyes. 

I wonder what he sees, when he looks at me like that.  

“I yelled at her. Told her she wasted her life running after snot-nosed brats, and wiping the asses of other people’s kids. I told her, I wanted to be successful, and that practicing law was better then a career that lead nowhere. I was so mean to her, she cried on the phone, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I just hung up, and went to bed. I figured I’d call her in the morning.” I shook my head sadly, and Negan held his hand up for me to stop, but I ignored him. 

I needed to get this out. 

“I woke up in the middle of the night. It was like hell, there was screaming outside.” I shuddered, thinking of the guy who’d fell out his window, and then rose to kill the ones who had come to his aid. "There was a banging on the door. I still lived in the dorms, I figured it was a stupid fire drill.” I wiped my runny nose. “God, I _wish._ It was hell, there was people in the hallways screaming and confused. A lot of the suites had locks on the door so that kept some at bay, but that was worse…” I shook my head in defeat, thinking about how I’d killed Julia. “I just wanted… _something_ that wasn’t controlled by my mother. I wanted more to my life then to please her. It took me up until now to see that… I really do love teaching. I-i-i-i umm,” I stuttered out in disbelief, before taking a deep breath. “I just wish I could have seen that then.” 

Silence.

I took the time to collect myself, wiping my runny nose on my ratty t-shirt.

“You should get some rest,” He began, but I protested. The last thing I needed was to be alone with my thoughts. 

“I need to finish,” I motioned to the classroom, and the half painted wall.

“Kimberly, you just listened to your brother die.”

I turned to look at him sharply over my shoulder.

“Nine months ago, Negan! I mourned a long time ago. What I _need_ right now, is to finish. I have class tomorrow.” I shifted out of his lap, before making my way over to the discarded paper mâché stars I’d been creating before this whole ordeal began. Wordlessly, he returned to painting. 

We’re finished by the time the sun begins to show signs of setting. I’ve hung the stars on the ceiling, as well as hung up the educational posters. I’ve also swept the floor, and rolled out the rug I’d snagged from the supply store. In all, it almost looks like a real classroom, and I think… maybe my mom would be proud. 

Negan’s been a good sport, and finally finished painting the wall. We both simultaneously take a step back to look at his handiwork.

“It’s very… black.” I offer, and I have to admit that the color kind of throws the rest of the room off.

Negan shrugs.

“I think I’ll have the kids decorate it with their handprints tomorrow,” I finally add. “Add some pops of color.”

A knock on the door interrupts my external musing.

“Who is that?”

I’m just as lost as him, until I realize that I requested dinner to be delivered. I shoot him a bittersweet smile. 

“Dinner.”

I smile at Lucas’s mom, when I open the door. She works in the kitchen, and is absolutely besotted with me. It doesn’t hurt that I can call in a favor or two, in exchange for keeping Lucas a little longer on some days. She peeks into the room, spots Negan, and quirks her eyebrow before handing over the picnic basket and blanket that I requested. 

“Have fun,” She winks.

_If only she knew…_

I shut the door and turned around, only to catch Negan’s questioning glance.

“I thought we could eat outside,” I hedge. He gives me a small smile but I can still see the way his eyes assess every move I make— waiting for me to shatter.

Maybe. 

But not today. 

Negan steps towards me, and I watch him warily. He evades every one of my senses, as he stands so there’s barely an inch of space between us. Sandalwood, cigar smoke, and leather bombard my senses, and I have to resist leaning in.

“Let me take you away from this,” He finally says, it’s not a question. “I know a place.”

“Why, Negan,” I tease, although it sounds a little forced. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I’m offering you a chance to distance yourself from the pain,” A warm finger traces a trail from my ear, all the way to the corner of my mouth. 

I’m speechless.

“Please.” I beg.

* * *

As we walk to Negan’s truck which is situated at the front entrance of the factory, I get a strong sense of déjà vu. 

What is it with men and trucks that makes me absolutely lose my self worth?

 _Please don’t take your pants off._ I internally plead to the small portion of my soul thats barely functioning at this point, it’s all I have since my conscience abandoned me.

“Where are we going?” I ask Negan, who’d left for a few minutes to change. I can’t help but linger a little longer then usual, he truly is sin in a leather jacket. “Of course you bring Lucille.” I add, as an after thought. And here I thought the man could go a few hours without his precious baseball bat.

“Don’t think cause you’re hurting, I won’t kick your ass,” He retorts, and I can’t help but smirk back.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

We get odd looks as he puts the key in the engine, and motions to one of the guards at the gate to open it.

“We won’t be long,” He barks out to Bronson, of all people. I groan internally when I see the shit ton of questions written all over his face, when he spots me in the passenger seat. “Tell Dwight to not burn the place down while I’m gone, that is if he can manage to pull his dick out of Sherry long enough,” He chuckles at his own joke and nudges me, but my mouth is somewhere in my lap, and I can’t respond right away. 

_Really, Negan?_

He catches my facial expression. 

“What? I could have forbidden it.” He puts his foot on the gas, and we go propelling through the front gates. “I told you, darling. I’m not a dick.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “But you are a jackass.”

He blows me a kiss, and I can’t help the small giggle that passes through my lips. He’s doing it again, that thing that drives me wild— being himself. Not the shitty, macho show, he puts on for everyone at the factory. No, he’s showing me the side of him that’s thoughtful, and complex, and what I’m guessing is highly intelligent by the number of books he has in his possession. 

“So where are we going?” 

“You tell me,” He reaches into his jacket, and pulls out my map. 

I squeal in delight, although the sight of my map brings forth this bitter taste in my mouth. 

“Thought you might want it back.” He grins. And I grasp it, before he reaches into his jacket to pull out my gun too. “Only for this outing,” He warns.

“What else do you have in there, Hermione?” I ask, before tucking the gun into the waistband of my pants.

He shoots me a look, but doesn’t say anything as he fiddles with the cassette tapes underneath the seat. 

“We’re going here,” He points to a space on the map, not to far from where we are now. “ Don’t get us lost.”

I’m grateful for the mundane task, and every once in a while, direct Negan where to go as we make our way down the dirt road. 

Otherwise, left to my own devices. I try to make sense of the death of my family members… but I know, only time can make the hurt stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also there may be spelling errors, I'm squeezing this in between homework assignments. Sorry!


	21. P is for Pain (pt.2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention in the previous chapter... thank you to everyone who has left a review! I read every comment, and it truly makes me happy!

“Why do you have so many wives?”

We’re sitting in the bed of his truck, and this time, I swear my clothes will be staying firmly on my body. With the blanket spread out underneath us, and a spread of fruits and sandwiches, we dig in. 

“I think the _real_ question, Annie,” Negan pauses mid chew. “Is why don’t _you_?”

I sputter. “Because I’m not a guy who always needs to get his dick wet, jackass. P.S. you have terrible taste in women.”

Negan starts on a second sandwich, while I pinch the chicken out of mine. 

“Is that what you think?” He says absentmindedly, as he gazes out at the view before us.

The destination that we stopped at is truly beautiful. We’re parked on what appears to be a gorge, that overlooks a stream, several feet down. It’s only mid afternoon, almost four o’clock, and I can just barely make out the horizon on the other side in the dimmed daylight. 

It’s just a dense coverage of trees, but it’s something. 

“It’s what I see,” I mumble. I can’t help but to push this issue, push _us_. Its almost as if I want to get rid of all the possible surprises in my future, after today… I can’t take anymore.

Or maybe it’s something else.

Rejection, I realize. Isn't the worst thing that can possibly happen to me anymore. 

“Her name was Lucille,” I shoot him a questioning look, but he motions to let him finish. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this… but it seems only fair. I know your story,” He pauses for   a second, but I’m not looking at him— rather the stream, as I imagine what it’d feel like if I jumped. “I was a teacher, an English professor to be more specific.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, internally groaning when I consider how much shit I’ve said about teachers in general. 

_Smooth Kimberly…_

He chuckles, obviously basking in my discomfort. _Jackass_. “As a heart attack. I taught at the University of Virginia. Thats how I met her, she taught history.”

Oh, this made perfect sense. The books, his condescending attitude, and his need to correct everything. 

 _Classic_ college professor.

He quieted down, and I waited patiently for him to pick up again. 

“Everything was good, until I was diagnosed with cancer,” He laughed humorlessly. “People grieve in mysterious ways. Lucille…well, she fucked her students while I laid in chemo three times  a week.”

I winced.

“Yeah,” He nodded at my facial expression. “Not the best way to do a marriage. But I was sick, and I needed someone to take care of me… so I left it.”

“I’m sorry, Negan.” I brushed his shoulder. “So the bat…”

“She fucking ruined me, Kim,” I’m only slightly taken aback, when he lets out a harsh laugh. His eye turning cold. “Call it a loving tribute.”

_So Negan’s got his own past…_

“What kind of cancer?” I finally ask, because… I’m a glutton for punishment.

“Testicular,” He shrugs. “I can’t have kids, or at least there’s a slim to none chance. It’s practically impossible.”

“How’d you find that out?” I regret the words as soon as I say them, and we both share knowing glances when we finally look at each other.

I can fill in the blanks.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say. Because I really am… and well, Lucille sounds a lot like a Candice. Then it occurs to me to ask another question. “So why fuck around with people like Candice, you deserve someone that will actually love you, Negan. Have you ever thought about that?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t need to. 

 _Negan doesn’t think he can be loved._ The thought makes me want to take him in my arms, and hold him. Even though I’m hurting to. 

“I cope with it in other ways,” Is all he says, and I can’t help the wave of anger that rolls through my body.

Never mind, rejection does still hurt. _Good to know._ I can’t help but picture him and Candice together, _naked_.

“So, that’s it,” I let out a bitter laugh of my own. “You got hurt, so you hurt other people. What are you some kind of fucking monster? You can’t control this,” I wave my hands around for emphasis. “Look what you did to Dwight, you fucking disfigured him!”

“He deserved it, there are rules!” He stood up, hopping off the bed of the truck. “Something you never understood.”

“You know what? Maybe you just can’t face the truth. You got hurt, and you’re afraid of being hurt again. Look at me,” I motioned to myself. “There are so many things going on in my head, but my first instinct is to fix you— to figure _you_ out, and make sure you’re okay. The _last_ thing on my mind is to cause more hurt… don’t you think there’s enough already?”

He stepped forward, but I held my hands up in protest.

“What can I do?” He finally says, and I watch the way his dark eyes widen in earnest. “I want this, Kimberly.”

“You have three wives. This,” I motioned between us. “you can’t have this. I shouldn’t be doing _this_!”

My words are sharp, and stronger then I thought possible, given the last several hours. This moment— it seems final, and I watch the way he reacts. Standing up straighter, before completely closing himself off. But I’m quick to see the hurt, and I think… rejection hits both ways.

Oh, Negan. 

“I need to piss,” He’s gone without another word.

He doesn’t look back.

“Jackass,” I mumble. 

I sink down to my knees in disbelief, burying my face in my hands. _So that was it?_ I couldn’t even get the guy—

I got nothing.

Some time passes, before a warm hand settles on my shoulder.

I refuse to look up.

Jackass.

“What do you want Negan?”

“Who’s Negan?”

The soft tinkling of a child’s voice causes my head to shoot up in disbelief, and I think, _I really have lost my mind,_ before I see her. 

She can’t be more then eight, with large eyes, almost abnormally so. I watch entirely captivated, as she brushes a brown curl out her face before assessing me cautiously. Her attire, a white garment of some sort, is tied several times around her small frame.

“Where did you come from?” I finally utter, and I watch as she points to the other side of the gorge, not offering me any further explanation.

“Don’t cry,” She finally says. I touch my face, before brushing away some of the dampness.

“I can’t help it,” I shrug. “I have nothing.”

While my exterior is calm and collected, I have to admit that I’m freaking out on the inside. Who is this little girl? I study her from underneath my lashes, she’s taken a seat next to me in the grass, obviously deciding I’m not a threat.

“That boy is mean.” She finally declares, and I snort when I figure out she’s talking about Negan.

“Yes,” I nod in agreement. “he is. Would you like some of my sandwich?”

I offer it to her, and watch as she nibbles on it cautiously. 

“So your settlement is called, The Children of Lazarus?” I hedge. It’s obvious by her garments, but I want to here her say it.

“Yeah,” She mumbles from around a bite of the sandwich. “It’s boring. Sometimes I sneak away to watch the kids play.”

“The kids…?” I turn to look at her fully, while simultaneously wondering where Negan’s gone to piss… Timbuktu? “Wait, that was you that I saw by the fence wasn’t it?” It’s all making sense now, and I’m slightly relieved I’m not crazy.

She looks a tad guilty.

“There’s no one my age, and my brother doesn’t want to play.” She shrugs. “I make my own adventures. What’s your name?”

“Kim.”

“My names Elaine, but you can call me Ellie.”

This is too weird, and more then I can take after the day I’ve had. I can hear Negan’s mumbling in the distance, and I’m glad that he’s back so that we can both make sense of this. I stand up, eager to make introductions. 

“Well, _Ellie_. Are you ready to meet my friend? He’s not so…” 

I glance over my shoulder, but she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time! Which hopefully is soon... you never know with college.


	22. Q is for Quiet

The next couple of weeks crawl by quickly. 

And slowly… I begin to heal. 

The loss that I’ve been blown is… heart shattering. But I’m comforted by the fact that my family doesn’t have to experience the end of the world, and I _know_ that they would have wanted me to spread some good before I eventually perished in it. 

So I throw myself into my work, and between Sherry and I, the class runs like a well oiled machine.

The kids were over the moon, the day after Negan and I had finished decorating the classroom. They’d all bum rushed me in a group hug, and I’d broke down in tears, overwhelmed from the feeling of a simple embrace, and that’s how Sherry had found me— a snot nosed mess.

Sherry…

What could I say? As much as I hated the cliché, we’d become good friends. When you’re subjected to spending 10+ hours, five days a week, with _children_ — you tend to flock towards the person your age. Someone who doesn’t prefer their beverage in the form of a juice box.

It helped that we both hated Candice with a burning passion.

Although, _burning_ was a little bit of an understatement. 

My hate for her could rival a forest fire. 

But… I digress.

My favorite part of the day was when we’d take the kids outside for lunch, and then let them play around for a couple of hours in the sun. 

We’d talk about anything. Random thoughts, future lesson plans—

 _Men_.

At first we’d both tried to skirt around the elephant in the room, the tension had been suffocating. 

Finally I’d turned to her, and said: “That Negan. Am I, right?”

 _Negan_.

I hadn’t heard from him since our last interaction. It hurt, but I knew it was over the moment  he’d returned, and barely glanced in my direction. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him about Ellie.

Something had changed that day. He’d shut himself away from me, and I let him. After all, I’d been the one to push the issue of us. _I_ was the one that had pushed until I’d gotten the answer I wanted.

He wanted me, but it could never work— the man had _three_ wives.

 _Sigh_.

Even I had my limits…

I just had to keep reminding myself that. 

Sherry roused me from my internal musings, with a nudge to my ribcage. I groused, but gazed up from the book I was pretending to read under the shade of our class tree. 

Truly, having her around wasn’t so bad. It was nice sharing my responsibilities with someone, and being able to doze off during the day. 

“It’s your turn, Kimberly.” She sat against the trunk of the tree, with a sleeping Anne in her lap. 

I followed her line of sight. Only to be met with the view of the kids gathered around a portion of the fence— dangerously close to a staked biter— _not_ playing like they were supposed to. 

I stood up, taking my time to mark the place in my book— Negan’s book. Before clambering off the shared blanket, carefully maneuvering around the jackets that the kids had thrown down before starting a game of kickball.

“I told you to call me, Kim _._ _Sher-bear_ ,” I called cheekily over my shoulder, as I made my way over to the kids. After all this time, she still refused to call me anything except my full name. 

She claimed she was still getting used to the idea of us being friends— it’s been almost a month. 

_No way was I ever telling her I fucked Dwight._

She whistled at my retreating figure, catching the attention of others that were meandering around the courtyard. I blew her a kiss, before sauntering across the grass lot, pulling my cargo jacket closer around me as I walked. The temperature was starting to drop, and I knew our time outside was coming to a close.

“Children,” I acknowledged, as I cocked my head with my hands on my hips. “Didn’t I say to stay near the tree?” After asking what happened— something I instantly regretted, as I was hounded by several little grubby hands to ‘pay attention to me’— I’d finally gotten it out of them. 

They'd kicked the ball over the fence.

 _Great_. 

Just great…

Liam looked absolutely heartbroken, and I sighed— _heavily,_ before speaking. 

“Everyone head back inside with Ms. Sherry,” I ignored the protests, with a forced smile. Being a teacher really does require patience. I sent a silent prayer to my mother for strength. Something I’d been doing a lot lately. “I will _try_ to retrieve the ball, if you all go back inside with Ms. Sherry. Recess is over, and I hope you all think twice when I tell you not to play near the fence— _again_.”

They shuffled away reluctantly, and I shot Liam a reassuring smile as he passed. Briskly, I set off toward the front gate, working out a game plan in my head as I went, and taking a mental assessment of my weapons.

Whether it was poor judgement, or all around forgetfulness— Negan hadn’t taken back my gun. I had it tucked into the waistband of my jeans, along with my knife strapped to my thigh.

“I need to go outside for a moment,” I said, to the guard at the front gate. Just my luck that Bronson wasn’t on gate duty. It just had to be Ethan. No friendly favors— at this point, honesty was the best policy.

“Can’t do that, Kim,” He said, before eyeing the knife strapped to my thigh a little longer then necessary. “Negan would kill me.”

“Come on, Ethan,” I pushed. “The kids kicked the ball over the fence. And you and I both know, they’ll drive us _all_ crazy looking for other ways to entertain themselves.” I might have fluttered my eyelashes for effect, it didn’t hurt to use the situation to my advantage. “Negan doesn’t have to know… _anything_.”

Ethan took a moment to weight the pros and cons in his head before calling over Gabriel— one of Negan’s men. He wandered over, casting a curious glance in my direction, before turning to Ethan. They talked for a few moments, but I paid them no mind. Rather, I eyed the ball that was within only a couple yards of the fence. 

For a moment, I could have sworn that a movement in the trees is what had caused my head to turn.

“The ball is literally right there,” I motioned to it, getting fed up with the lack of response. “Do _either_ of you want to be the hero?” I was slightly miffed that my flirting hadn’t worked with Ethan, he was obviously smarter then he looked.

Or, I was just rusty.

Maybe Negan had ruined me?

They gazed at the ball, less then enthused.

“Then open the gate, and I won’t mention to your wife,” I pointed to Ethan. “That you’ve been ogling my tits for the past three minutes.”

“Was not,” He halfheartedly protested, before motioning me to go through with a scowl. 

Gabriel gestured to his watch, before shooting me a warning: “It’s almost two o’clock.” 

Which _meant—_ Negan and his Saviors, would be back from their run any minute now. I flashed the watch on my wrist, to show him that I understood. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, I squeezed through the crack in the gate Ethan had made for me, checking the perimeter, before making my way along the outside of the fence. 

The kids had kicked the ball over towards the right side of the factory, making the walk longer then I initially thought, and I moved my pace to a brisk walk when I realized it was now a minute past two o’clock. 

The ball wasn’t initially where I’d last seen it. 

“It’s probably because of the wind, Kimberly-Anne.” I acknowledged aloud, before stepping forward into the shadows of the surrounding trees to retrieve the ball. The temperature change was swift, and I shivered before standing up.

With Liam’s ball safely tucked under my arm, I addressed the figure in the shadows.

“You can come out, I won’t hurt you.” My fingers twitched for the weapon in my waistband.

“Hi,” The quiet bell-like voice, immediately caused me to breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Ellie, what are you doing here?” She peered at me from behind a tree shyly, brushing away her brown hair— which was tangled and knotted— from her face. “Did you follow me?”

“I just wanted to see the kids play,” She finally said.

_I didn’t hear a no…_

“My camp isn’t far from here,” She shrugged. “And my brother doesn’t like to play,” She paused. “Actually he doesn’t like to do anything. Father took him because I was lonely, but all he does is just mope.” She stepped backwards, and I followed her movements with my eyes. “Do you want to meet him?”

“Alright,” I agreed hesitantly, gazing around cautiously. “Where is he?” Something about the way she phrased her previous sentence, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. 

She perked up before rushing forward, reaching for my hand with the ball in it— forcing me to let go. I watched it roll for a second, before turning back towards the seemingly helpless girl by my side.

The least I could do was make sure she made it to her brother safely.

“Where is he?” I repeated again, trying not to let on that I was in a rush.

“Not far,” She pointed deeper into the forest. “We were supposed to be fishing for dinner. There’s a lake only a couple minutes away.”

Tugging on my hand, she led me forward.

* * *

Pain… a shit ton of it.

The feeling overwhelmed my senses, and I struggled to open my eyelids as the noises of my surroundings slowly bled into my subconscious.

 _What happened?_ The thought almost hurt to think.

I managed to crack open a single eyelid, before shutting it against the light of the sun— my lips parted emitting a low groan in protest. I could hear sharp whispering close to where I lay on the ground, giving up on the task of opening my eyes, I listened intently.

“She’s my friend!” 

 _That’s Ellie talking, but to who?_ I wondered, still trying to regain control of my body.

I was rewarded with a twitch of my foot, for my efforts. 

 _Had I gone and walked into an ambush?_ The idea didn’t make sense, but obviously something had happened to me.

“She’s waking up,” Ellie’s voice wandered closer. “Just meet her, and apologize for hitting her— that was rude!”

I jerked upright, regretting the movement as soon as my vision swam. My head was still throbbing, but they’d been stupid enough to not take my weapons. I reached for my pistol as my vision became clear— pointing it at the taller figure behind Ellie, before dropping my weapon in utter disbelief. 

“Charlie?” The words sounded choked as they fell from my lips, my tongue heavy.

I barely recognized him— a thin jagged scar ran across the right side of his face, and trailed under the collar of his white robe. His curly hair was matted and tangled from a lack of care.

Charlie moved closer, his eyes studying me with a quiet intensity. Making a decision, he pointed a tree branch at me— the one I’d been hit with. 

“How do you know my name?” His voice was deeper, so unlike the boy I’d last seen in Florida. He was taller, not very well built, but it was the beginning stages of puberty. 

Distantly, I remembered that he’d had a birthday since the last time I’d seen him. 

“You’re fourteen now,” I said in disbelief. “Oh god, Charlie,” I choked, as my eyes began to water. 

He made no further move to come near me.

This couldn’t be happening.

Why didn’t he recognize me? Had I changed that much? I certainly didn’t recognize him. _He’s different_ , I noted sadly. The usual mischievous glint that he carried in his eyes, had been replaced with a guarded and somewhat cautious expression.

“Charlie,” I regarded him, more confidently. He was different, but he was my brother. Clearly he hadn’t figured out who I was. I couldn’t blame him. I was different now too. My hair was longer, unkept, and slightly lighter from the months of constant sun. I’d lost weight— almost too much. Of course he didn’t recognize me. “Every night you’d crawl into my bed, and I’d read you a story. We kept it a secret, because you thought you were too old,” I took in a shuddering breathe, unable to prevent the tears from falling. “The last book that we read was _The Little Prince_. Charlie, _please_.”

I barely finished the sentence before he dropped the branch in his hand, launching himself into my arms. I let out a grunt, even though I’d braced myself for impact.

“You’re so heavy now,” My words contradicted my complaint, as I pulled him closer. It was almost as if I needed to reassure myself that he was really here. “Oh sweetheart, it’s okay. Were together again,” I stroked his dirty hair as he sobbed into my shoulder, deep anguished cries that caused my tears to flow. “I’m not going to let anyone take you from me again.” I whispered into his ear, conscious of the way Ellie regarded the scene before her with an unreadable expression.

“Annie,” The way he said my name broke my heart. “We thought you died, but dad said we had to keep going anyway.”

I gave him a watery smile. 

We had so much to catch up on.

“How have you been?” I finally asked, although what I really wanted to say was: Where’d you get that scar?

“The people I’m with now are okay,” He said, answering my unspoken question. Hesitantly, he  glanced at Ellie, before lowering his voice. “A little odd, but they took me in.”

“Good,” I motioned for him to stand up, and he did so somewhat reluctantly, before grasping my hand.

 _I won’t have to kill anyone_ , I finished silently in my head.

I grabbed the gun from where it lay discarded, tucking it into my waistband, before using Charlie as leverage to stand since my movements were still a little shaky.

“I’m sorry I hit you with the tree branch,” He glanced down at the battered sandals on his feet. “When Ellie said she brought someone back with her, I panicked. I get jumpy, Annie. And you look so different… you’re older.” 

My throat tightened at the tone of his voice. What had happened to my sweet little brother?

“Don’t worry about it, Chunk,” He brightened a little at my endearment, and I had to forcibly hold back the onslaught of questions raging in my head. “Come on, let me show you where I’ve been staying. You’d be surprised— your sister got a job.” I motioned for Ellie to grab my other hand.

“You— a job?” Charlie scoffed, reminding me of his old self. “I don’t think so.”

I threw my head back, letting out a laugh so loud it could probably be heard all the way from the factory.

“Charlie, you don’t know the half of it.”


	23. R is for Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! Long time no see. *waves* Don't hurt me! School and work have been consuming my life. But I'm so grateful for the new readers, and people leaving kudos. Here's a chapter, and I promise to update soon.

“Give me a moment,” I utter eagerly to both Charlie and Ellie, once we’d broken through the tree line. I grab Liam’s ball and chuck it back over the fence, before greedily reaching for Charlie's left hand. 

Charlie. 

He’s here.

I can touch him. 

I squeeze it, almost as if to prove my point. And I am instantly rewarded with Charlie’s returning squeeze.

“They found me on the side of the road, and brought me back to their camp. I’m a teacher here,” I say, as a way of explanation to Charlie’s flustered glance toward the factory walls. I really can't blame him, this place _could_ be a little intimidating. 

I glance at Ellie, before lowering my voice. “I know it’s a little overwhelming at first, but you’ll like it here.” Charlie's subtle nod calms me instantly. He understands— he’d be saying. But Ellie wouldn’t. 

My pace slows slightly when I notice the excess of cars streaming through the front gate of the factory.

_Shit._

I’d expected something like this… just not with such a large audience. I take a deep breathe, grimacing when I catch a glimpse of Negan’s leather clad back. 

_Double shit._

Charlie squeezes my hand, and I shoot him a reassuring smile before continuing along the permitter of the fence. Thankfully, we’ve gone unnoticed.

Until… we weren’t.

“…And _how_ long has she been gone? …Really? …And you _let_ her? Fuckers!” Negan’s voice floats the short distance between us, and despite my greatest efforts, I warm at the thought that he’s been worried about me.

Truly, I’m sick.

“That idiot— is my boss, Chunk. He’s nice,” I pause, deep in consideration. _Aren’t I always telling the kids not to lie?_ “…sometimes.” I tactfully add. 

“He sounds like a dick,” He remarks casually, and I catch the way he admires the motorcycles that are being parked as we speak.

 _No_. 

Absolutely not.

Before I have time to squash the idea of him _ever_ getting near a motorcycle, all attention is on us.

“Look, Negan! Their she is! Thank _fuck…_ ” Gabriel’s anxious gaze connects with mine and I watch the tension practically drain from his body. Before it’s there again, taking in the two children partially hidden behind me.

I have everyone’s full attention as we walk the last couple of yards to the front gate. The moment feels so _silent,_ that I swear if someone dropped a pin on the forest floor, we’d be able to hear the echoes. 

I haven’t seen Negan in weeks— and just like that, he’s in my life again _._ Studying my person with a partially guarded expression. He looks tired and rumpled, and the dark smudges are proof that he hasn’t been sleeping.

_Good._

I don’t mean that.

I’m conflicted, but I don’t let it show on my features. Bronson who wasn’t far away to begin with, is almost hovering over Negan’s shoulder to get a front row seat. I can tell he’s busting out of his seams— to confirm what he’s probably thinking.

His eyes dance from me to Charlie, and I watch as he’s hardly able to contain the grin on his face.

_I love you, B._

“Kim!” Bronson finally buckles under the pressure. He bravely ignores the look that Negan shoots him, although I’m sure he too is busting at the seams to hear where I’ve been. “What the hell happened to you?” I touch my forehead where Charlie hit me with the tree branch. Its tender and feels swollen. 

_Why is it that I’ve been injured more times then I can count, since I got here?_

I clear my throat, ignoring our audience and speak directly to Negan. “By some _random_ act of faith. I found my brother, and I understand if he can’t stay. But I’m going with—”

“No,” His words rings through the air with a whiff of authority, and we all wait with bated breath for his next words. I rub Charlie’s arm, comforting him. I was only bluffing when I suggested leaving the Sanctuary, but I mean it. I’ll never leave Charlie, again. “not here. We’ll talk about this in my office.”

I step forward relieved.

“I can take the kids to get something to eat,” Bronson’s statement come out more like a question, but I’m grateful for his suggestion. I can’t stand leaving Charlie, but he looks thinner— his cheeks slightly sunken— he needs to eat.

We both look at Negan for permission.

“Fine,” His answer is short and gruff, before he directs his attention back towards his men. “Get back to work. This isn’t a fucking soap opera.”

Bronson and I exchange knowing glances.

_Could have fooled us._

Without another word, or even a glance in my direction, he strides towards the entrance of the factory. 

Hurriedly, I turn towards Charlie and Ellie. “Bronson’s my friend, you’re going to go with him to the cafeteria. I’ll be back soon.” I wait for a nod of understanding from both Charlie and Ellie, before I briskly follow Negan.

He’s slowed down a bit, and I study the tense set of his shoulders, and the long stride of his steps as I follow him all the way to his office.

It’s just like I remember— books open and strewn about haphazardly. Except this time, there’s a makeshift bed on his leather couch.

“What the fuck happened to your head?” He’s rummaging through his desk, looking anywhere but at me. There’s so many things going on in my head, and for some reason that makes me _so_ impatient. I want to know what will happen, and I want to know now.

I close the door behind me— the extent of my movements. I don’t step any farther into the room.

“Can he stay or not, Negan?” My question causes him to pause his movements, and for the first time in weeks he looks at me. Truly, looks at me. “You have to let me know— stop playing these games with me.”

His fist comes down on the desk, startling me.

“So _now_ you want to talk? Fine! Let’s talk. How did this happen, Kim? I come back from a run— only to discover that you ran out the front gate! You were gone, Kim,” His fist clenches as he steps forward, and I back against the closed door to his office as he advances closer. “Where do you _think_ you’re going?”

“Negan,” I draw in a short breath, and hold my hand out— attempting to deter any further advancement. It’s useless. I find myself trapped, as he steps even closer, placing both of his hands on either side of my head. He's all I can see. And I’m forced to witness each emotion take shape, as they swirl around his irises.

Hurt.

Confusion.

Longing.

“I thought you’d left,” His quiet admission is enough for my breath to hitch. We continue to stare at each other, and I try to ignore the way the air becomes charged between us. “You can’t do that to me again.”

_Oh, fuck it._

I nod absentmindedly, and against my better judgement… I lean forward to kiss him. He’s not startled in the slightest. Rather, he leans in hungrily to complete the embrace. His lips are soft and slightly chapped from the sun, and as my tongue lightly sweeps against his bottom lip; I taste the nicotine on his breath, and the faint sweetness of whiskey. 

One of his hands shoots up, and tangles in the hair at the nape of my neck. The action presses our lips firmly together, while his other hand descends lowers, brushing the sliver of exposed skin between the hem of my shirt and jeans.

“Don’t leave me, ever.” I inhale the words greedily into my mouth, before lightly sucking on his bottom lip.

“I won’t.” I promise as his mouth descends lower, and I savor the feeling of his wet lips against the nape of my neck. While his mouth is busy, my hands, which are no longer stationary; begin to explore the uncharted territory of his stomach. “Just let me touch you.”

I brush my fingers brazenly against the soft hair on his lower stomach, where my hand has traveled underneath his shirt.

There’s a sharp knock at the door that startles us both, and bewildered I break the embrace. 

_Fuck! What just happened?_

Negan on the other hand, poise as ever, leans forward to plant another kiss on my lips before speaking.

“Go get the girl,” I immediately miss the feeling of his body pressed against mine, and I watch befuddled as he moves to sit down at his desk—seemingly unaffected. “You can explain on the way there.”

He doesn’t give me any room to say anything. Or even the chance to tell him that the kiss was a mistake.

Although, what’s the point? We both know that I’d be lying.

Without another word, I open the door and shut it quickly behind me. Upon my exit, I almost stumble over the person who’d initially interrupted our embrace.

Bronson is out of breath— eyes wide and unfocused.

“Kim,” He’s leading me down the hallway before I can even ask him what’s wrong. Or, why I’m flushed and my lips are swollen. My mind immediately jumps to Charlie. Where is he? Bronson answers my unspoken question. “I decided to take Charlie to the infirmary before they ate anything. You have to see this…”

I take off down the hallway before he can even finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bookmark. Bookmark. Bookmark. So you're aware of the next time I update.


	24. S is for Small Smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It's been so long. I didn't even plan to update today (so excuse the spelling errors). But please don't think I've abandoned my page. As we speak, I have finals week barreling towards me. While I might not update in the next upcoming weeks. I will be back, most definitely, in late December with the end of this story, and so many good announcements!
> 
> Thank you, my loves.
> 
> NegansOtherWife x

 

My hands barely graze the handle of the clinic door before I’m forcibly grabbed by the back of my shirt, and pulled into the corner of the adjacent hallway.

A sharp sting lashes across the left side of my face, and I’m left staring bleary-eyed at an irate Bronson. 

“Jesus, _Kim_!” I gingerly touch my stinging face in confusion, as I wait for Bronson to explain why he just bitch slapped me. “Fuck, I’m sorry for hitting you. But you didn’t let me finish, and you were about to barge in there and do… _god_ knows what.” He throws his hands up, obviously flustered, and looks away for a moment.

“What is it, B?” I’m starting to get worried. “What’s behind that door? If it’s not Charlie…”

Simon?

“Is it Simon, B?” I finally ask. “What’s happening?”

“It’s a good thing… I _think_ ,” He approaches me cautiously, palms out. “I just don’t want you to rush into anything, upon your initial… observation. Remember who you are, Kim. You’re still the feisty little firecracker that we found on the side of the road. Let’s go.” 

I follow him, slightly puzzled, out of the alcove and wait— slightly impatient, for him to open the door. He steps in, and I briefly let the sound of Charlie’s voice wash over me, before passing the threshold.

He’s here.

My brother— he’s still here _and_ safe.

With Candice…

Fuck, _Candice_?

I peer over Bronson’s shoulder and instantly do a double take.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Candice sits primly on one of the steel stools as she chats away to one of the clinic’s patients— oddly enough, one of Negan’s men. Her usual pristine hair is pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and the scrubs she’s wearing are stained with some kind of dark liquid. 

I don’t miss the way that Joseph shoots minute glances in her direction, while he checks out Charlie.

_Oh my, I think we got ourselves some unrequited love, folks._

“I _knew_ I still had it in me,” I mumble softly under my breath. 

_No way Doc McSexy could ever resist my charms._

“Huh?” Bronson glances at me worriedly over his shoulder and it seems to me he’s almost questioning my sanity… really, I can’t blame him.

“Nothing,” I answer.

Unfortunately, our short conversation has drawn the attention of everyone in the room. 

“You!” I barely have a moment to dodge Candice’s fist, before she’s on me fully— sidestepping a bewildered Bronson. 

We hit the floor with a loud thud, and the air in my lungs escapes in a loud whoosh. I hear Ellie scream from somewhere in the room, but I’m determined to kill Candice, so she’ll have to wait.

“You fucking bitch!” Candice practically snarls. Bewildered I propel my body weight to the side throwing her off me in the process, before using my left foot to steady myself, and land on top of her.

“Yeah!” Charlie cheers, from where he’s holding back a worried Ellie. “Kick her ass, Annie!” Before he says a little quieter to the surrounding audience. “You have to let them work this out… it’s a girl thing.” 

Dean, Negan’s crony, nods along in agreement from his position on the cot. “I think I read that in a Cosmo magazine once."

“Like hell, I will!” Doc comes barreling through the narrow row of cots, and I’m momentarily distracted. He’s a burly man, and watching him try not to knock over patients in the process is kind of humorous. In the moment, I’m distracted and Candice takes the opportunity to grip my hair. Astounded, I turn to her— trying and failing, to restrain her flailing arms from doing any other damage.

At this rate, I’ll be bald and bruised by the end of the week.

“You!” She shrieks again, and I have to grip her wrists a little tighter as she goes for my throat.

“Fuck, Candice!” Bronson stands by, looking for the right opportunity to intersect. “Let her go before I get Negan!”

His threat only makes her more irate, and my head snaps back as her fist connects with the underside of my jaw.

“Yes, _me_!” I finally gripe back. “What did I do this time, Candice? Haven’t I left you alone?” 

Suddenly I’m airborne and being pulled off Candice by a pissed off Bronson. Dizzily, I watch as Doc does the same to Candice. 

“Because of you, Kimberly…” Candice sneers my name, and I visibly shiver at the malice in her eyes. “I’m stuck here in this shit hole. Guess you finally persuaded Negan to get on his high horse.”

_Fuck._

“Fuck,” Doc’s words seem to mirror my own inner monologue.

But in my opinion, he looks way too happy. 

“No way,” I shake my head in disbelief. “There’s no fucking way.”

_If Negan had gotten rid of all of his wives, why hadn’t he said anything?_

“Little miss innocent,” Candice throws her head back letting out a bitter laugh, before gazing around the room. “Guess you won,” She shrugs. “It’s not so bad.” Her eyes linger on Doc for a moment, and the grip around her midsection. 

“How long?” I finally manage to ask. “Candice…”

“Almost four weeks,” She huffs, before glancing behind her shoulder. “You're just lucky I got a hefty payoff, or else I’d kill you in your sleep.”

I roll my eyes, but nod in acknowledgment. Since we’re no longer at each other's throats, Bronson lets me go and I take a moment to collect myself and calm my buzzing thoughts.

My first instinct is to run to Negan’s office, and believe me… I _want_ to. Lock me away with him, and make him answer all the questions that must be so clearly inscribed across my face. 

So _badly_.

Instead, I turn to a dubious Charlie.

“Teacher?” He sizes me up and down, but I can tell he’s only teasing. “More like the mistress.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Ellie tugs on my arm as we walk towards Negan, and his truck. I have a perfect view of his profile as I drag a reluctant Ellie in his direction, he’s sin personified, and I watch as he takes a drag of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke from his nose.

_Do I even want a relationship with Negan?_

_Does he even want me?_

“Where’s Charlie?” Ellie pulls at my hand, once again, and I look down at her heartbroken. “He’s not coming with us, is he?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie.” I crouch down beside her, highly aware that Negan is looking at us, and can hear everything I say. “But I’ve waited a very, _very_ long time to have Charlie again. This is where he belongs, with me.”

“Then I want to stay!” She stomps her foot on the ground, and I take a moment to collect myself before answering her. Charlie’s safe with Bronson, he’ll never be far from me again. 

But still, I understand what it means to be far from the ones you love.

“Don’t you miss your family?” I brush the hair out of her watery eyes, as I speak to her. “I know that they're missing you right now.” 

She nods begrudgingly. “I want my mom.”

With that being said, I open the passenger side to Negan’s truck— hoisting Ellie in, before climbing in myself. 

Without a word, Negan opens his door and slides in, the car immediately filling with the smell of him— tobacco and leather. 

 _A dangerous combination for a man to have,_ I ponder bleakly.

“All right, Ellie,” I turn to her in hopes that focusing on the task at hand could distract me from the enigma that is Negan. “Where do you live?”

Ellie ponders for a moment, and my hopes start to sink.

 _Of course, she wouldn’t know where she lives, she’s like eight!_ I internally swear at my ignorance, and lack of preparation. This would go so much smoother if I had—

“Here.”

Negan produces a map— my map! 

Eagerly, I unravel it and begin to retrace the steps Ellie must have taken to get this close to the Sanctuary. 

“Do you live by a large lake, Ellie?” It’s partially a question, partially a statement.

“I follow the river, to get here. That’s also how I find my way back.” Her eyes water as she talks, and I feel for the little girl— her mother must be so worried. 

I nod accordingly to her statement before moving the map so that Negan can see. “Here,” I say, indicating to a large clearing on the map. “This is close to the area where I first met Ellie. This has to be it.”

He nods slowly— considering everything I’ve just said. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” That's all he says as he starts the engine, and maneuvers towards the front gate. Maturely, I bite my tongue and hold back my scathing comment.

_So now you want to talk, Negan?_

I’m sure I could write a book with all the things I’d like to say to Negan in the moment, but instead, I turn to a curious Ellie, watching our interaction with a childlike ignorance.

_Ugh, to be young again._

“Why don’t we play a game on our way to your camp?” Ellie’s face lights up, and she gives a little wiggle in her seat before demanding to know which one in particular.

“Twenty questions.” It might seem evil, but a part of me needs information, and I’m not opposed to pumping it from a nine-year-old.

“That’s one of my favorites,” She turns to Negan before demanding. “You have to play too.”

It’s more of a demand than a question, and I quickly hide the sly grin on my face at the sight of Negan’s flustered expression.

Finally! He's _on the receiving end… even if it is coming from a child_ , I think. 

I watch the gate close behind us, and we’re barreling down the road at a steady speed before I begin to speak. “Why don’t we go down the line? I’ll ask the first question… and we can go from there?” I don’t think I’ve ever played with three people.

“You have to ask it to Mr. Negan,” Ellie demands, causing me to groan inwardly— but I charge on nonetheless.

 _I can get information from both_ , I remind myself.

I watch Negan’s fingers tap anxiously on the wheel, as I consider what my question will be.

_Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been off the market for weeks?_

_What does this mean?_

_Do we still have a chance?_

_And why do I want you so badly?_

“What’s your favorite color, Negan?” I watch as the tapping ceases, and his eyes slowly cut to mine before they’re back on the road.

“Red.”

Ellie’s little eyebrows scrunch together, assessing his answer, before nodding in acceptance. Finally, she says, “My turn! Have you ever been in love?”

I cough— _hard._ Because I’m supposed to answer the question? 

“Ellie,” I start. “I thought it was your turn to—”

“Answer the question.” Negan says, deceptively quiet. “That’s the rule. Right, Ellie?”

“Right.” She nods

_Bastard._

I watch Ellie’s eyes droop again, and I wonder whether or not I can drag this out for a little until she gives in to the enviable. Eagerly, I wait. But she’s back all moon-eyed when we hit a bump in the road, jolting the poor girl awake.

Bastard, he did that on purpose!

I take a deep breath in— _well, what have I got to lose?_

“Well,” Ellie prods.

“Yes,” I speak slowly and deliberately, even though my body movements betray the confidence in my voice. So I count the trees whizzing by before I continue. “I’d like to think that I still am… or at least I could be— _if_ I was given a good reason.”

 _Good._ I applaud myself. It's not obvious but there are definitely hidden connotations there, and Negan is devilishly insightful. 

“I don’t think that’s a very good answer,” Ellie finally says, breaking the stifling silence in the car. “You didn’t really answer the question. What do you think Mr. Negan?”

“Its good enough, kid.” He answers.

I _t really is_ , I think. I’m slow to look at him, for fear of what I might see on his face. But when I do gather the courage to glance his way,  he’s already staring at me, and a small smile graces his lips. 

In awe, I watch as a part of his inner wall crumbles. 

 


	25. T is for They

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's been so long! But I'm back!! With good news like I promised... *drum roll* I started a BLOG for all my work. There we'll be able to keep in touch and you can have all my work in one place. The link is down below and on my profile page. I also posted a one-shot called "Quickie" which is kinda a prequel for a story that will be up after I finish TLAT.
> 
> Enjoy x.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Negan’s voice penetrates the thick haze that has encased my mind, drawing me back to the surface of consciousness.

_We found him on the side of the road… half dead…_

_He was deranged, kept mumbling something about a truck._

_Cleaned his scar… gave him food…_

Ellie’s voice is a dull roar in my head, and I listen to her words on replay— like a broken record. There’s so much I want to say— and do, but I’m so lost in this sadness I just sit there and do nothing. Helpless...

“Hey!”

“Quiet, you’ll wake her,” I hiss. Honestly, the man had as much patience as a four-year-old— trust me, I know. 

“I don’t think that's possible.” Negan bites back taking the time to flick the ashes off the end of his cigarette as he watches me through slitted eyes. We’re such a happy couple, it seems we’ve surpassed the honeymoon stage and gone straight to bickering. 

Wait— are we even official? 

And define official, Facebook is long dead. Maybe I should put a sign that said, “It’s complicated” on my back?

Mutely, I marvel at the beauty of children as my hands softly wander through the tendrils of a sleeping Ellie’s hair. Something about children and the energy they give off has always made me calmer... complete.

“The Florida sky,” I answer after a beat of silence and his bemused glance because it’s not the answer he’s looking for and I’m a coward. “It’s all I can think about…for some reason.” I swallow thickly before leaning forward to get a view of the rapidly fading Virginian sun without disturbing Ellie. 

“What’s so different about the skies in Florida?” Ellie’s eyes are barely open and I shoot a, “told you so” in Negan’s direction, before answering her.

_Jackass_.

But I’m pretty sure he’s my jackass.

“Well,” I begin idly. “They were gorgeous. Shades of purple and pink— so _vibrant…_ I swear it was partly my imagination. Almost like… cotton candy skies. My whole family used to have picnics on the beach, my favorite thing to do was watch the sunset.” My voice takes on an almost dreamy tone,  as I remember the angelic laughter of my mother and the rumbling tone of my father’s voice mixed with the crashing of the waves.

Despite everything I’d been through, I had to admit that I was uncharacteristically optimistic. It helps that I have Charlie.

And that's what I had to focus on now… although a part of me had to admit I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We’re here.” Negan parks on the shoulder of the road, pulling the keys from the engine after a quick look around.

There isn’t much to see, just a dirt road with a thick layer of forestry on both sides.

“Right there,” Ellie’s once hooded eyes pop open, and I’m left wondering what she’s seeing that I’m not as she clambers over my lap and out the vehicle. Wordlessly I follow her out of the car.

“Slow down, kiddo.” She tugs at my arm as I follow her a little uneasy. Negan’s body language matches my own as he adjusts his grip on Lucille. 

“We go through here,” She points to a little gap between the bushes little ways from us. “and then there’s a clearing that we live in. Come on Annie, I want to see mommy.”

“Ellie, how long do you stay in one place before you move again?” 

The question stumps her, and I’m once again reminded that she’s younger then her wise eyes let on. “I think a couple of weeks, we’re heading north.”

I do the mental calculations in my head, it makes sense if that’s how they’d stumbled across Charlie. They're taking the same route that I was, along Interstate 95. It must be pretty popular as the highway intercepts across a multitude of major cities and landmarks. Fuck. I can’t help but shiver. The shit I witnessed on that road was brutal, it’s no place for a child. No place for Charlie. 

I didn’t resent Denise for a second when she told me that she wasn't going back out there, the minute we had found The New Frontier she never wanted to leave.

Negan’s warm hand rests on my shoulder and I spare him a quick glimpse. I want so badly to smooth the crease between his eye. For once he actually looks worn, and I feel guilty. He’s only here because of this mess I’ve made, and while he’s powerful and holds the torch most of the time— he’s also human.

And like thirty. Holy shit—! 

Never thought my life would take this turn...

“Let’s go,” His voice is gruff, and I agree before quickly following after a disappearing Ellie. “You’ve got your gun?” I nod as I continue after the small girl. “Good,” He pauses.

“What is it?” I mumble. There has to be something more. There’s always more with Negan. 

“Just…” A sigh. “If anything happens, then I can’t be held accountable for the number of heads I smash in— and you can’t judge me for it. Deal? It’s who I am.”

I think for a second. Can I really accept and love this man— who brutally kills without a second thought, and seems to enjoy it too? I think of the countless people and monsters I’ve killed in the past several months. I think of the people who hurt Charlie.

“Deal.”

* * *

 

How do you announce to twenty-something people that you have one of their people, a child nonetheless?

“Hey fuckers,” Negan voice rings out across the packed field of tents… and horse carriages? Odd. But then again so are a large group of people all dressed alike in similar white garments. I feel like I’ve taken a couple steps back in time, and transitioned into some cult era. I glance down at Ellie, cloaked in my jean jacket, the whites of her garment are soiled from the food Bronson gave her earlier.

“Hi,” I wave awkwardly to the weary crowd of people, keeping a hand on Ellie’s shoulder before I whisper to Negan. “Do we have to leave her here?” The question comes out less sarcastic then I intend and Negan shoots me a look.

Damn, okay.

“Ellie!” A small dark-haired woman brakes through the crowd and stops short when she catches sight of Negan.

Really, I can’t blame the women.

He’s rough, dark, and wielding a bloody bat.

So why am I so infatuated with this man?

It’s probably time to bring back the age-old debate of nature versus nurture, huh?

I reluctantly let Ellie go, but I can tell this is her mother and I tear up slightly when I see the joy on both their faces. 

“Oh buck up,” I tell Negan. Does he ever smile? “ You did a good thing.”

He grumbles nonsense.

The small woman turns to me, somewhat hesitantly, and smiles with Ellie firmly in her grasp. “Thank you…”

“Kimberly-Anne,” I pipe up. “But you can call me Kim, and this is Negan.”

The crowd nods grimly.

Oh, so they’ve met.

Of course.

“Yes,” She nods towards Negan. “We’ve met your men, Kaleb will be along shortly— he’s meditating and must not be disrupted.”

What do you even say to that? 

I nod like I understand and peek at Negan, from his body language he’s made it pretty clear that I’m running the show.

“Well,” I shift under the eyes of everyone before settling on Ellie’s mother again. “I’d like to speak with him before we leave, so I don’t think we mind waiting for a few.”

“My name is Delilah by the way, and you’ve met Ellie.”

“Yes,” I can’t keep the slight scolding tone out of my voice. “She really has a way of showing up at the most… inopportune times.”

We both shoot a heated gaze at Ellie, and I’m beside myself. _Is this my first parent-teacher conference?_

“Momma,” Ellie whines tugging on the sleeve of her mother. “But there are kids and I wanted to play.”

"Don't make up lies, Ellie."

“I run the school, that we have at our settlement.” My answer is short by way of explanation and we lapse into an awkward silence. “I guess she must have seen my kids.”

A slip of a man steps forward, a somewhat creepy smile unfolding across his face as he shoots me a  look. “So you live around here—?”

“Don’t talk to my girl, fucker.” Negan slings an arm around me before shooting the man a look that can only be described as pure death. Or at least that's what I think happened. I’m to busy over processing the fact that Negan called me his girlfriend. 

Fuck, fuck, _fuckity_ , fuck.

Before I have time to answer, the crowd of observers parts like the red sea and a man in a black robe makes his way slowly forward with a serene smile on his face. He’s tall and limber, completely void of all hair on his head. Seriously, he has no eyebrows. It makes for an interesting picture. He kind of looks like my dad, in a weird cultish way.

“Fucking really,” I elbow Negan in warning when his comment catches a few upsetting gazes. 

“I need information from this guy,” His grip on my shoulders tightens briefly before he drops his arm completely. “Behave,” I warn.

“Hello, Sister Kim,” He outstretches his arms. “Brother Negan,” A pause. “I hear you’ve brought our little one back to us, but where pray tell is Brother Charles?”

_Alright_ …

“Charlie,” I corrected. “and he’s my br— erm… real brother. I’d like him to stay with me.”

“He _will_ be staying with my people,” Negan interjects.

Kaleb nods respectively... I mean come on its Negan we're talking about. What else could he say? “If what you say is true, then Charlie has had a divine miracle occur.” He pauses waiting for applause, and when it does occur I shuffle awkwardly while Negan snorts behind me. “My child—” He reaches out his arms and I shuffle forward awkwardly until he encases me in a surprisingly gentle grip. “Your brother has come a long way, walk beside him, for he needs it— now more than ever.” His whispered warning makes me shiver and I’m being tugged out of his arms by a skeptical Negan.

“Now that we’ve got that all sorted out,” He points to Ellie. “Keep your kids on a tighter leash, and my men will be here in no more than two weeks time. You’ve also got something for her, “ He motions to me. “We need more information about the _boy—_ her brother. Don't give me that vague, divine miracle shit.”

Huh? Yeah, he’s right.

Kaleb takes it all in stride. “Of course,” Kaleb's gaze is steady, yet kind and I find it hard to look away when he pins me with it. “Brother Charlie is one of the many wayward strays that we’ve taken up along Interstate 95, but he is the most peculiar by far. We found him contentious and starved— bleeding. He never said much, but he did mention that he was taken by men in chains… remember the chains. That’s all he could say for the first month.”

That was it?

Chains. Chains. Chains.

My brain kicked into overdrive, trying to gather some familiarity with the concept of _chains._

_Remember the chains._

“Well, that’ll be all,” Negan begins to steer me back towards the direction we came, back towards the truck and I let him.

“Wait,” The crowd is already dispersing but there's still so much I want to know. I’m slow to step up to the plate. Charlie’s been hurt, and the bastards are probably long gone. It’s all their fault, they're the reason my family is dead. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I address Kaleb. “Can I come back, if I have any questions?”

“Of course my child, the Children of Lazarus walk hand and hand with knowledge. For the time that we are here, we welcome you back Brother and Sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog link: https://negansotherwife.blogspot.com
> 
> Come chat and read all my work.
> 
> Negansotherwife xo


	26. U is for Unfurling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another day. :)

“What are you thinking about?”

I can’t help but snigger. “You asked me that already.”

He hums in acknowledgment. “You’ve been through a lot in the past couple of months.”

It’s not a question.

So now Negan want’s to be my therapist?

Sluggishly I allow myself the time to mull over his words. My family is dead, a factor that I share with the rest of the barely surviving human population left on this planet. But unlike most, I had found Charlie. Someone had given him back to me.

The way I see it… I have a choice.

Move on and live for Charlie, live for Chase and Brady, who hadn’t gotten a chance to. 

Or I could let this pain swallow me up.

I spare a glance at Negan, hand-rolled cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth and fingers absently tapping on the wheel of the car, he’s calm personified.

There were other things I could live for of course. We’d come a long way from the first time we'd met, I can’t say that his attitude had changed much but the way he had opened himself to me and comforted me… well that had to count for something, didn’t it?

“I think I’m ready to see what’s next,” I announce aloud, maybe a little too loud.

“What’s next?” He can’t fool me, there’s a slow smile unfurling across his lips as he speaks.

Now it's my turn to hum, reaching over to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, I take a long drag hyperaware of his eyes on me before I flick it out the window. 

His gaze threatens to burn me alive.

“So I’m your girl,” He doesn’t say anything but I take note that the truck is slowing down, I don’t pay it any mind. “And you gave into my one stipulation…” I hedge.

Before I can fully comprehend it, I’m yanked across his lap sideways. Fuck me, he’s warm and all-consuming. I barely have time to draw in a ragged breath before his mouth covers my own, taking me— claiming whats his.

Truthfully speaking, I think I've been his for a while.

“Not so fast, jackass,” I lean in quickly for a kiss in an attempt to soothe the sting from my next sentence. “I’m not the type of girl to give it up so easily. Three dates.” I hold up my finger to illustrate the concept.

“Three dates,” He echoes, his left hand is sans cigarette now and tracing a searing patter into my skin. I’m on fire. “Then what?”

“Well,” I trail off because damn he’s got me there. “I give you my _cookie_?"

I can’t help but snort before dissolving into laughter, I’ve never seen him look so affronted.

“I’m a thirty-year-old man, and you're telling me I have to _woo_ you before I can get into your pants?”

I can’t help but snort again, leaning forward to lightly pat his cheek I say.  “Sweetie, you flatter yourself. You’re _not_ thirty.”

“How old do you think I am?

Hmm… his fingers are poised at the ready and I can barely get my words out through the huge smile on my face. I feel lighter, despite everything and it’s all thanks to him.

“Thirty-nine.”

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that little girl.”

And pay I do as his lips connect firmly to mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog link: https://negansotherwife.blogspot.com
> 
> Come chat and read all my work.
> 
> Negansotherwife xo


	27. V is for Violins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! A crazy wonderful thing happened! I finished TLAT! I wanted to wait to post this chapter but I couldn't, so while I proofread and edit... enjoy this chapter! :)

“Charlie,” I cry breathlessly, I practically wretch my hand from Negan’s in my rush to exit the car. Bronson, Charlie, and Simon are waiting by the gate— and I know it’s not a coincidence. What have I done to deserve them? I smile at both Simon and Bronson gratefully before reaching for my little brother. “You’re here.”

I crush him in my grip and he doesn’t object, just hugs me harder and we stand there holding each other— because this is a miracle like Kaleb said, a divine one. 

“Take a couple of days, then report to the gardens.” Negan’s voice is gruff but not unkind when he addresses Charlie. I’m flattered that he’s giving him some days to acclimate to the Sanctuary, it's a bonus that I’ll have him by my side too. We both need it, and something tells me that Negan knows it too. “You’re responsible for him.” The last part is directed towards Simon. “Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office for the rest of the night.” I can’t help but shiver when he catches my eye. 

“Well,” I clap my hands together after he leaves, and it’s just the four of us. “There’s so much to do Chunk, but how about we start with clothes.” 

That white garment has to go.

Dressing Charlie as it turns out is very easy, with the help of Bronson and Simon he accumulates a small wardrobe of hand me downs, and after letting him shower Bronson offers to cut his hair. Although, I can’t lie I’m extremely hesitant.

“Are you sure, Chunk?” I regard him from my perched position on the sink of the third-floor bathroom that we're situated in. “You’ve never cut your hair before, we can wash it, go at it again with some more shampoo?”

Although we’ve been doing that for the past several minutes, and I’m starting to think its useless. His hair has become a nest of knotted curls and I absentmindedly run a hand through mine in consideration. 

“I’m sure,” He answers, he’s looking past me into the mirror and I don’t miss the haunted look in his eyes. For now,  I let it slide. 

I’m not the only one who’s suffered. 

“So this Negan guy,” He begins nonchalantly enough. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I blow a big gush of air out my mouth to buy me some time, because while I love Bronson he’s the biggest gossip on this side of the nation, admitting it here is admitting it to the entire population of the Sanctuary. Bronson and Simon regard me silently. Yep, everyone will know by lunchtime tomorrow.

“Define boyfriend,” I barely have the sentence out before Bronson is squealing like a banshee and swinging me around.

“Shit a brick on a fucking stick! Kimberly-Anne, you surprise me at every turn.” Bronson's speaking so fast that I swear my head is spinning. “When I met you that first day and you walked straight up to us, I thought ‘Is this bitch crazy?’ but now I know its all apart of the Kimtastic charm you have!”

“B, put her down before she gets shaken baby syndrome.” Simon’s as calm as ever, although his eyes are twinkling. “Do I hear wedding bells in the future, Kim?”

I shudder because I can’t possibly picture Negan on his knees proposing. 

Hmmm, but would it be so bad? 

“Ok, enough of this.” I turn to address Bronson. “He called me his ‘girl’ so yes that means were dating. Facebook is long gone, so go out and spread the merry news.” I shrug before turning to Charlie. “Let’s cut it all off, maybe a pretty close shave? It’s time for a fresh start, for both you and I.”

A couple hours later Charlie and I are both admiring our hair in the murky mirror in the corner. Charlie’s head is completely void of matted curls and instead resembles a buzzcut. The hairstyle makes his sunken cheeks look more prominent, but I comfort myself by stuffing food down his throat at every chance I get and reminding myself that he won’t be like this for long. 

“You know you didn’t have to cut your hair too... to make me feel better.” His voice is quiet and steady but I can tell there's an underlying tone of emotion. 

“Hey,” I assure him. “It’s time for a fresh start… for both of us.” And I mean it, my curly hair now barely brushes my shoulders and if anything this haircut gives me more volume and bounce. I feel lighter— like nothings holding me down. 

My new hair reflects exactly how I feel now. 

“Now, come on,” I clap Charlie on the back. “No more tiny violins lets just focus on the now.”

Charlie still hasn’t told me what happened to him and I don’t think he ever will, and I feel bad that a part of me doesn’t even want to know. Instead, we spend the rest of our night filling each other in on what we both missed, carefully skirting around the gory details.

“Mom was never upset with you Annie, she got off the phone that night and she hugged us all and said she was sorry if she ever made us feel pressured. Dad said you guys were both just PMSing.” I took the pillow that my head was propped up against and hit him playfully. Laughing Charlie grabbed the pillow from my hands with a surprising amount of strength that shocked me.

“Tired, Chunk?” I ask when he yawns for the fifth time in the hour.

**_12:06 am_ **

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He’s been fighting sleep for the past couple of hours but I’ve selfishly kept him up. I smile softly and tuck us both under the covers. He’s out before he even finishes his last word.

Carefully, I lean over him to blow out the candle on the side table. When I’ sure he’s asleep I carefully lift the blanket from around me and grab the candle sitting on the dresser. With as much precision as I can muster I open the door carefully and prepare to slip through.

**_Creakkk_ **

“Annie?” Fuck, busted.

I slowly close the door. “Yes, Chunk?”

“Tell him I said, thank you.”

“I will.” 

* * *

 

I quietly knock on Negan’s office door suddenly unsure of myself. I glance down at my outfit: A thin pair of black leggings, and a baggy t-shirt with a mountain dew logo on it. It’s definitely not my best.

He opens the door before I have time to escape, and I step in absolutely delighted as I shed the insecurities I once wore at the door. There are lit candles placed randomly around the room giving the space a romantic glow combined with the window which lets in natural light from the moon.

“I don’t usually do this shit,” Negan begins quietly, there are two glasses and some sort of bottle sitting on the table alongside a pathetic excuse of a flower bouquet resting in an empty whiskey bottle. “You’re hair looks nice by the way. Did you cut it?”

“You did all this for me?” I’m absolutely touched by this sweet gesture, it's been so long since anyone has down something nice for me. I’m touched by everything he’s done for me, welcoming me into his settlement, giving me food, and a job I love.

He’s so uncomfortable and vulnerable in this moment, it makes me love him more.

I love him.

That’s the weird thing about love when you realize how you feel about that person its like it demands to be addressed by all individuals involved. It needs the other person to know, to feel fully validated. 

Love is selfish, just like I am. 

I pull him forward by the collar of his shirt, eager to feel his warm lips against my own. Kissing has never felt this good, this liberating and consuming all at once. It’s scary but I want more, he’s receptive and grips my thighs walking us to his desk before dropping me unceremoniously onto it.

“More, more,” I’m chanting softly underneath my breath until he gives in to my request. Sliding his rough hands up my shirt and palming my warm breasts. 

“Are you sure?” He speaks the words into my neck, and the feeling of his hot breath against my skin causes my eyes to roll heavenward. “What happened to three dates? I was really looking forward to my dessert.” His words are soft and teasing, and instead of answering him I pull my shirt over my head, sending it sailing across the room.

“I just need to say, thank you.”

“Thank you,” He echoes my words softly as he watches me drop to my knees before him. “I could get used to this. Damn, Annie. You won’t hear me complaining, it’s been so damn long.”

The only sounds are our soft breathing and the lowering of his zipper. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outtakes are up now depicting what happened after the chapter ended for all you smut lovers... you know who you are.
> 
> Negansotherwife xo


	28. W is for Weddings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, my friends.

For what seems like the thousandth time today I straighten my dress in the mirror. It’s long and flows to my ankle in a flattering way, draping my modest curves.

A knock on the door and I’m scrambling for my hairbrush. Makeup is a thing of the past so there really isn't that much left to do, still, I’ve been procrastinating all day. I’ve had time to do this and I’m a hot mess— there are no excuses.

I slip on my hiking boots somewhat reluctantly, because I haven’t got a nicer pair and this is as good as it’ll ever get, it's a shame I take the dress as a casualty.

After sparing one more glance in the window I open the door to an anxious Simon.

“Only you, Kim,” We both head for the door before he stops me. “You’re flower crown, Kimberly.” Shit! It took Sherry hours to make that. I place it hazardously on my head before heading up to the roof, Simon close on my heels. 

“Where have you been?” Karen hisses at me as I fall in line behind her, and for what feels like the millionth time this week I roll my eyes. She’s one of Negan’s ex-wives, and in the several weeks that we’ve had to plan Sherry’s wedding together, I can say that its been a constant nag-fest. God help me, I’d fling myself off the roof of this factory before the wedding is over. “Are you trying to ruin Sherry’s big day?"

She’s okay as far as ex-wives go and is already pregnant with one of Negan’s Saviors. A fact that she reminds me of all the time. _I’m glad for the time that I had with Negan, but I always knew my real passion was to be a mom. It’s a shame you won’t get to experience this_. Yeah, okay. But I’m just glad that the wedding has finally come and we won’t ever have to talk again after today.

I’ll be taking care of her brat eventually. 

I’m so late the flower girls have already gone, so she gives me one last look before taking the hand of one of Dwight’s pals. We’re up next, and I squeeze Simon’s hand before clambering up the last steps of the stairwell and stepping onto the roof and the makeshift aisle. There’s a sizable crowd and paired with the rapidly setting sun and candles set along the aisle I can almost trick myself into believing we’re at a rustic Brooklyn wedding.

In a weird twist of irony, they made Negan their ‘officiant’. Yeah, fucking priceless. I can’t take my eyes off Negan as we walk down the aisle in their direction. Dwight’s sweating bullets, but Negan's wearing the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen on his face and he’s staring straight at me. 

This whole situation appeals to his sadist side, I’m sure. 

For a second I picture what it would be like if I was the bride. I’d have gone with the baby breaths instead of daises, and I’d have the wedding under my tree.

Shaking my head to clear that thought, I mouth the word ‘behave’ because its Negan and even though he promised me he wouldn’t say anything inappropriate… I don’t believe him for a second. 

Still— I want to tell this crazy man I love him.

Sherry is a vision as she glides down the aisle hand in hand with Bronson towards Dwight. I’ve never been happier for a couple, they both practically glow, and nothing can wipe the smile off of either of their faces— even when Negan begins the ceremony.

“Looks like we got ourselves a wedding, folks! Let’s begin shall we.” I can’t help but groan cause, fuck, who’s idea was this? I hear Charlie laughing in the crowd, and I cut him a look. “But in all seriousness, we’re here to talk about love, as you all know this couple has been through a lot— and that’s partially my fault.” I shoot him a look because everyone’s been so kind and gracious enough to— semi— put Negan’s actions behind them, no need to dredge up the past. 

Doc clears his throat and briefly apologizes from his position next to Simon before passing me an unsettled baby. 

Remind me again whose idea was it to put a baby in a post-apocalyptic wedding party. But Anne’s so cute in her miniature flower crown, I can’t help but give her a couple kisses on her chubby cheeks. 

“As I was saying,” Shit! My bad. “You’ve both endured a lot and I’ve never understood the ‘why’… until now.” I look up quickly into Negan’s eyes because—

“What did he just say?” Karen whispers in awe from somewhere off behind me.  I hush her.

“I never understood what it was like to find that one person who mattered, who drives you absolutely fucking crazy and turns you on in the same moment.” Really, Negan? My brother’s in the audience. “But that’s the crazy thing about love, it’s selfish— like me— and demands to be known. I’m not a perfect man,” The crowd murmurs in agreement. “I’ve down some things— as have you all, and fuck— I guess what I’m saying is… hold her close Dwight old boy. Because this feeling is an island in a sea of absolute bullshit and death. If we can have just a moment of peace, with the women in our arms… then so be it.”

Stunned and polite applause. 

I barely pay attention as Dwight and Sherry renew their vows, in the dim light of the setting sun. 

Because Negan admitted that he loves me, and holy fuck I can’t wait to do the same. Bronson’s giving me some serious eye’s over Dwight’s head and I’m inclined to agree with him. 

 _Holy shit_.

When the weddings over I let the crowd trickle out slowly behind the elated newlywed couple, before making a b-line straight for Negan.

“I love you,” It’s all I can say before he leans down to peck me on the lips. He’s not one for PDA, we’ll continue this later in private. Almost to assert his point Anne gurgles in my arms demanding our attention. I placate her with a kiss on her chubby cheeks.

“Come on,” Negan grabs the kid, which honestly shocks me because I’ve never seen him with kids, at all— _ever_. “Let’s go return the kid so we can get drunk at the reception, and make out afterward.” He leers at me causing my body to tremble.

Could I have found a more perfect man? 

 

* * *

 

The reception is outside and is still in full swing several hours later. I should hope fucking so— it took me twice as long to perfect every detail. There’s a huge bonfire, which people dance around to as well as the live music.

Fuck yeah. Guess who pulled that one off all by herself? It’s my way of saying ‘sorry, for sleeping with the man you’re desperately in love with’. Something that I’ll take to the grave till this day— I swear it. Like every wedding, more people come to the party than the actual ceremony.  There are trays of food set up on long tables decorated with flowers. Several of the adults pick up a game of soccer with the kids, contributing laughter to the air. Someone made moonshine, and the glasses are flowing. Theirs fucking cake for god's sake! Sherry’s practically in tears when she sees it all.

Score one for Kim!

Everyone’s in high spirits, and I do the only thing I can do to celebrate a successful job well down.

I get piss poor drunk.

I dance with my other fellow bridesmaids, kicking off my boots in the process. I shove cake into Simon’s face, and I grope Negan whenever possible. 

When I can’t take anymore I plop down onto Negan's lap— the act surprises him but he holds me nonetheless. I spot Charlie, chatting up a girl a little too old for him— she’s like sixteen, no!— but I leave him be because he looks so happy.

“What are you thinking about?” Negan’s not drunk, he obviously knows how to hold his liquor, but his eyes are slightly glassy and there's that damn cigarette again, dangling from his lips. I remove it from his mouth before claiming it with mine, he tastes of nicotine and icing.

He squeezes my hip in warning and I pull back, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“You know I never smoked because I was told that it's extremely bad for you.” I take another drag as I look up at the stars.

“It still is,” He remarks dryly before I let him take a hit. 

“Ok, hush.” He looks on in amusement. “I’m trying to be deep and philosophical here. So anyway, I never thought I’d smoke but here I am doing it with you.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad habit?” He sounds affronted. 

Huh, am I?

“No,” I finally answer, although I’m not sure what we're even talking about. Fuck that’s some good moonshine. “What I’m saying is… umm… I never thought I’d be here happy and in love with my brother back. But I am because you gave me that and I guess I’m just having a full circle moment.” I turn to him forgetting the cigarette. “I love you, Negan. You— and all your faults. I never thought I’d say that to a guy who _shot_ me, but you’ve given me a lot and I want to say thank you.”

The light from the fire nearby bounces off his face, and this time he kisses me. I’m tugging him up to his feet in the following moment and he has the nerve to look amused. “So I’m getting a thank you?” Fuck he looks good, and I’m horny, so yeah— I’ll blow him.

“And more, of course,” I answer back watching his eyes darken in the moonlight. We’re sidestepping kids, adults, and even a dog as we race towards the side entrance of the factory. “It’s our second date, which means second base.”

The world goes sideways as he throws me over his shoulder. I have half a mind to wave to a few folks before we escape the festivities, we’re both grinning like idiots. 

Just call me Kimberly-Anne: Wedding Planner Extraordinaire. All in a days work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outtakes are up now depicting what happened after the chapter ended for all you smut lovers... you know who you are.
> 
> Negansotherwife xo


	29. XYZ and Everything In Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that in all my years of wanting to write fanfiction, I’ve never finished a full-length story— ever. There have been half-assed attempts and just complete abandonment of some of my past ideas and accounts, but I’m so glad that I did it this time and you were all along for the ride. I appreciate every review and kudos from each and every one of you. Thank you.
> 
> With that in mind enjoy the last chapter of TLAT. I know I did. 
> 
> Negansotherwife x

I’m having such a shitty day, it’s fucking unbelievable. 

I’d started off on a high note. My alarm beeped signaling it was four in the morning, which meant I had an hour to unfurl myself from Negan’s warm arms, get dressed, eat breakfast and make it down to the classroom before the kids came. 

“Do you really have to go?” His warm lips nuzzle the sensitive space behind my ear and I’m seriously tempted. The only thing is Sherry’s got a cold so I’m riding solo today.

“Yeah, I do.” Although my tone is also wistful.

“Alright, close the door behind you.” He rolls over without another word snuggling deeper into the sheets. 

Jackass, he’s supposed to fight for me.

Where are my shoes?

My fucking coat? Shit. After a few moments, I throw on Negan’s shirt in frustration.

“You know it’d be a lot easier if you just moved in with me.” He’s watching me now with a slight smirk on his face, I kiss it before slipping on my shoes.

He’s right. It’s been almost two and a half months since we started "dating". More than an ample amount of time to air our new relationship. Nothing was conventional about this world, so what morals was I holding on to?

“I’ll think about it,” I replied offhandedly before turning to leave.

“Don’t forget about date number three, meet me by my truck at the end of the day.”

Date number three. An electric current passes between us before I shut the door. What had once been an offhanded idea, was now something of a foreplay to Negan. He’d enjoyed over the past couple of weeks exploring my body and I his— he really was a tease. 

But tonight was the night and nothing could destroy my good mood.

Little did I know— I could be so fucking wrong.

I tripped in the dark hallway catching myself on my hands. The concrete floor stung my palms and I cursed before booking it back to our room. I still shared a room with Charlie, a situation that was beginning to annoy us both. Charlie didn’t have to be up until several hours after me and he let me know that every time I tiptoed in first thing in the morning. 

“Anne, I’m trying to sleep.” He huffs before pulling the pillow over his head.

“I know, I know.” I’m quick to grab what I need, dashing around the room and running to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. 

Charlie whines when I open the door again, and I stub my toe before running off to the cafeteria.

There are no blueberries in my oatmeal.

Really!?

I’ve had blueberries with my oatmeal almost every day since I’d got here, and to top it all off the maple syrup is finished off by the person in front of me before I can even get a taste. 

Feeling slightly sorry for myself I limp off to the classroom getting the chalkboards and books set up for the kids.

It’s like there's this unspoken oath between the kids that says— “Let’s be as misbehaved as possible’. Even Anne is in on the rouse.

“She hasn’t been feeling so good,” Mason mentions after handing her off to me without so much as a ‘good morning’.

She vomits down the entire front of my overalls.

Lovely.

To pile onto this shit show no one wants to sit for their lessons and their all squirmy during our reading, by the time recess rolls around I practically throw the ball at them and tell them all to get lost.

By the time I lug them all to the cafeteria at the end of the day I’m sore and achy from the previous instances this morning, and ready to wind down with my boyfriend— maybe have a drink or three.

“Why didn’t you bother to tell me she was sick?” I snark at Doc who at least has the nerve to look sheepish. Even though the kids have gotten on my last nerve today, I kiss each and every last one of them on the head and tell them I love them.

Because I do and their just children, even when their misbehaving its nothing too bad and tomorrow will most likely be better.

When the table is completely empty I take some time to myself and finish my meal before dumping my tray, and set off towards the front gate.

“What do you mean he left?” I’m pissed the fuck off and if I wasn’t so angry right now I’d completely own up to the fact that Ethan doesn’t deserve any of my anger.

Besides, it should all be for Negan, who’s blown me off and didn’t even think to tell me he'd be gone on some "overnight business".

Yeah, okay.

Jackass. 

“Something happened and he said he’d be back as soon as possible.” I stare at him doubtfully. He’s not to blame— even though his excuse is shitty and pathetic. 

I march back towards my room in anger. I smell like baby vomit and I could use a shower. 

“Kim, why the long face?” Bronson falls into step beside me, and I fill him in with a slightly tear-strained voice of the last twelve hours.

“… And he didn’t even bother to get a message to me. Can you believe that?” I open the door to Charlie and I’s room heading straight to my designated drawers.

They're fucking empty.

I turn to face Charlie in disbelief, he hasn’t said a word since we’ve walked in and doesn’t bother to look up from his comic book when I let out a frustrated squeak.

“Are you done?” I don’t answer straight away because— well, no. I let out another scream before he continues. “I’m kicking you out.”

What?

“Come again?”

Charlie puts down his comic book. “I said, I’m tired of you waking me up in the middle of the night just so you can change. Just go live with your boyfriend, okay? Your clothes are already there.”

Un-fucking-believable.

I storm out without another word Bronson hot on my trails, his long legs propel him forward and he stops me in my tracks before I can go anywhere else.

“Whoah, slow down there Kimmy.” He grips me gently by my shoulders and I have no choice but to look up into his calming eyes. “You’ve had a rough day. Why don’t you get changed and then meet me on the roof? We can drink and just shoot the shit, okay?” 

I can’t lie, that sounds great and I nod in agreement before heading to Nega— our room. My bag is neatly set on his bed and I shower in his bathroom before slipping on a long skirt, a tank top, and a thick cardigan. 

When I smell like my normal self I head off to the roof, hoping that Bronson has some of that moonshine from Sherry’s wedding and a lot of it after the day I’ve had. 

 _Shitty day be_ _gone_ , I silently sing to myself as I make my way up the narrow stairs towards the rooftop. The door is partially ajar so I push it open expecting to see Bronson and Simon waiting for me. 

I’m so completely wrong, and I’ve never been happier for that reason.

All of the kids are standing on the roof, each holding an individual sign.

**Kimberly-Anne will you marry me?**

The question mark is its own sign and it's clear that each child had a hand in decorating it.  Sherry stands behind them with Anne in her hands, next to a beaming Charlie, Simon, and Bronson.

“Mr. Negan said to be as bratty as possible today and to make you miserable so that nothing would compare to this moment— and you’d say yes.” Oh, Jane. Ever the helpful one.

“Did it work?” Paula’s a ball of energy and practically vibrating in place, her light hair catching the rapidly fading sun. 

I face Charlie, he’s smiling so wide he almost reminds me of his old self. But I know better— that part of our lives has closed. I think I like him better this way. He shrugs sheepishly. “Just another piece of the plan. By the way, he asked for my blessing— I said ‘yes’. Mom and Dad would be really happy for you, Annie.”

I finally address Negan. He’s not kneeling. I never really pictured him the type. Rather, he’s standing in the middle of the semi-circle waiting for my answer. No sappy words or long arduous poem. This is pure Negan, and that’s what makes this moment even better.

“Kimberly-Anne, marry me?” I step forward in awe because he actually has a ring, it catches the sun and glints brightly and my eyes water while my head spins in confusion and elation.

I open my mouth to tell him, yes, of course, it’ll always be yes. 

“YES!” Jane practically screeches before running up to hug me.

“Hey,” Charlotte protests loudly. She’s a wild little thing her hair matching her red cheeks perfectly, as her tiny face puckers in anger. “I wanted to say that.”

They begin to bicker loudly, Sherry joins the raucous attempting to break up their little spat. Lucas ever the troublemaker pulls Eva’s hair when he thinks no one’s looking, adding to the chaos.

Really?

“Hey,” I snap to get their attention. “Lucas— apologize to Eva you know better than to pull her hair. Paula, I expect you to be nicer to Jane— and no arguing any of you.” I firmly assert. “You guys are supposed to be behaving nicely, this is my proposal. Do you want me to take away softball tomorrow?” 

I receive a collective sorry in response.

Alongside me, Negan snorts and I look up from beside him when he slips the ring on my finger. It’s a solid metal band and engraved with tiny vines and flowers. I’m touched by the gesture and the cold weight of it on my finger.

Perfect fit.

“What’s so funny?” Because really I’d like to know, he’s gone through all this trouble and the kids are running amuck and ruining our moment.

“Nothing,” He pulls me closer. “It’s just a crazy thing… to love a teacher.”

I can’t agree more.


	30. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There's an epilogue. 
> 
> Also, February 16 marks my one-year anniversary on Archive of Our Own! I can't believe that it's been almost a year. With that being said I will return with the sequel on the 16th to celebrate! What better way to commemorate such a great milestone?!
> 
> Enjoy x

The last couple of weeks I’d spent engaged to Negan were heavenly, we both agreed that we were in no rush to be married. More so— me. _I still needed the downtime from Sherry’s big blowout._ Instead, we took the time to explore our relationship, and we passed the nights tangled together between the sheets. He’d taken me to desirable places, and I in return. He made me laugh until my belly hurt, and was always there with simple and sweet gestures that made me swoon. 

It’s a shame I’ll have to kill him.

“Where is he?” I practically roar. Every head in the courtyard whips around to face me. _Negan’s Saviors_ , I all but sneer his name in my head. They're just coming in from a run, but I pay that no mind— I’m on a warpath and they see that, so they're quick to get out of my way and point me in his direction. 

“Kim, _hey_!” Bronson attempts to grab the back of my shirt, but I sidestep his grip and whirl around to face him. His eyes drop instinctively to the object in my hand, and he freezes up, mouth agape and eyes wide. “Is that…?”

I walk past him without another word.

“Is he fucking in there?” Ethan’s standing guard at the RV door, and when he nods hesitantly I till him to move aside.

“You know I can’t do that, Kim. He said he didn’t…” I pull the gun from my waistband and put it to his forehead. 

“Move,” I barely utter the word but he gets the message. 

Without another word, I open the door. 

“Annie,” His usual greeting, but he elongates the ‘e’ making my name come out like a question and a warning at the same time. He’s grinning though and that all I can focus on, that shit eating grin. “What brings you to my humble abode? I’m doing business right now, darling. ”

It's only then that I realize Negan’s sitting around the RV table with Dwight beside him, and two men across from them that I don’t recognize. Well, fuck him. I guess we’re both having plans interrupted today. With a steady hand, I point the gun at his forehead.

“Negan, you _jackass_.” I more or less spit out between clenched teeth. “I’m fucking pregnant!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to be notified when I post the sequel, bookmark this story as I'll post a chapter/reminder on here as well. :)


	31. Sequel Announcement

I just posted the sequel to this story. It's called To Love A Killer, and I hope you guys enjoy it. 

NegansOtherWife x

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some feedback :)


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